Memento Mori
by kittsbud
Summary: Clark Kent's future has been shaped by one desperate action, but what if he had never placed the kryptonite key in the ship that fateful day? This A.U. fic takes a look at the way things could have turned out...COMPLETED!
1. Default Chapter

The Metropolis Files: Memento Mori   
  
_Do you believe in destiny? Do you trust that your fate is preordained by some mysterious force in the universe and cannot be altered? _

What if by one split second reaction to a choice, you could unknowingly change the very essence of your future and that of the people around you, perhaps even the world as you would have come to know it...   
  
Prologue   
2003 The Kent Farm Storm cellar.   
  
The teenager moved warily among the shadows of the cellar, searching around the darkened room for some form of courage to attempt the unthinkable. It hadn't been an easy decision to come out here and try to destroy his own destiny, but it was something he must do if the life he loved so much was to stay intact. 

He fidgeted in his favorite red jacket, inhaling and exhaling deeply as he approached the ship that had given him life. He had traveled far across the galaxy in this tiny pod, but now its steely gray form threatened to take away what it had given. Clark gazed upon it longingly one last time as his fingers began pressurizing the silver casing in his hands. 

In that moment everything seemed clearer to him. The smell of the well-trodden earth beneath his feet, the bellowing of his father's cattle in the nearby field...the evil green glow of the kryptonite key as he let his all too powerful strength finally crumble the container that held it safe. 

Clark looked down as the key began to burn like a white-hot fire in his hand, sending spikes of pain along his fingertips and turning his veins into something akin to emerald green tentacles. Somehow in that instant all of time seemed to stand still for him. In fact only milliseconds had elapsed, but the unforeseen pause in his actions gave his unwanted mentor one last chance to rise from beyond the grave... 

_"The hopes and dreams of your people live through you Kal- El. Your destiny must be fulfilled..."_

The teenager backed away, surprised and somewhat taken aback at the ship's sudden and abrupt resurrection. His hands shook with the stress of holding the kryptonite his body was so allergic too, and finally as he almost reached the stairs he lost his tenuous grip on the object and it tumbled to the floor. Already tired from the agony and pressure the key placed on his physiology, Clark dropped to his knees, squinting as the pod rose from the ground once again. 

"Why?" Clark begged for answers, for mercy from a father he would never meet, "I won't give in to your ways, I won't hurt the people I love..." 

The ship hovered, filling the room it inhabited with an incandescent glow like some firefly illuminating a bleak skyline. It remained airborne, as it appeared to take in Clark's question and statement. Then without warning it repeated an action the teen had only once encountered before. The radiance seemed to intensify as if the pod were amassing some kind of power, its shell vibrating slightly with the effort. 

Clark held a hand to his face expecting the backlash of energy that he knew would wash over the room, and sure enough after a moment a rush of air and a tiny pulse wave engulfed him. The teen kept his head low; knowing it was safer till the show of force was over. A soft whispering voice soon told him that it was, and as he glanced up he already knew he would find Lionel's fake key no longer held its hellish green color. 

_"It is time to leave here Kal-El. You must begin your journey..."_

The ship taunted him again, although now it shimmering ovoid profile rested helplessly on the ground. Its unearthly shape emitting white wisps of vapor with the effort it had just taken to neutralize the aggressive meteor stone. 

_"You will rule over this planet Kal-El. Your destiny empowers you to watch over them, to protect those innocents who are weaker than yourself..."_

Clark tugged at his weary form, wanting to run up the stairs at super speed and never return, but somehow his legs seemed cemented to the earthy ground. At first the latter parts of his long dead father's words didn't even sink into his terrified brain. All he could hope was to get away and never return for fear of what he might become. 

_"You must save them from themselves Kal-El, for you alone can draw power from Sol...You alone can protect the innocents..."_

This time Clark paused. This message was different, clearer in its intent. He whirled around to stare at the object that had instilled such fear in his heart with a new respect. Slowly it floated off the floor once more and drifted in his direction. It bobbed gently on an invisible air current then settled beside him like some dog to its master. 

Clark's expression changed from apprehension to a new kind of reverence for his people. He raised a brow as the knowledge the blast in the cave should have given him finally sank in to its full potential. "You wanted me to help them all along...How was I so blinded by the words I didn't see their true meaning..." 

Awestruck the youngster found an aged tractor tire and sat on it as an impromptu chair. His huge frame sank into the perishing rubber but he never noticed, now all his mind could think of was his future, his destiny. There was no way for him to know now what might have been if he had succeeded in his mission with the key, no way of knowing what the world would have been like if he hadn't altered the timeline by pausing for just one split second ... 

Clark sat in the cellar for what seemed like hours. It never occurred to him that he had missed his best friend's wedding, or that his parents would be concerned about his whereabouts. All he could dream of now was how he could fulfill the goal his people had set for him. In a way he sensed the journey had already begun the day he had landed in Smallville, because hadn't he already protected the innocent here? 

_"You alone can protect the innocents..."_

The line resounded in his head as if it should mean something. Some pointer as to how he could best use his gifts in a world where revealing them could cost all. Then like a lightning bolt through a clear blue sky he recalled conversations long forgotten, buried deep in the back of his consciousness... 

_"I just can't help thinking that Whitney wasn't bullet-proof, his bones weren't unbreakable, but he still put himself in harms way so the world could be safer. I wonder if I didn't have my abilities if I'd have that same kind of courage..." _

"Son, there is no doubt in our minds that you would." 

Then there had been the careers open day... 

_"I see you in a uniform flying..."_

Clark doubted he would ever be a good pilot, he could barely get off the ground without getting dizzy despite his trip in the balloon with Ryan, but the uniform idea made him think. He stared back fixedly at the pod that had put these new professional callings in his head and it appeared to grin at him like its contoured surface bore a face. 

_"Protect the innocents..."_

Clark smiled for the first time in two days as the sentence played in his mind for the last time. Finally he had chosen a vocation in life, and from the silence of his biological father's very soul he guessed the ship had no argument with his selection. 

The teenager pulled his muscular body from its soft and still inviting perch and glanced down at his watch. Once again he was late for a very important moment in his life, but then maybe if he hurried he could still catch Lex and Helen before their flight. In a blur of motion Clark left tiny whirls in the dusty interior of the underground storeroom as he departed. As the microscopic particles of earth came to rest they settled on his pod. There they would stay for many a year as the teen became a man, and finally fulfilled one possible destiny that fate had in store... 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Metropolis, October 2013. 

A slight breeze blew under the doorframe of the upper story apartment, sending a mini dust cloud across the bare wooden flooring. The two-roomed abode had been uninhabited for some time now, save for the roaches that scurried to and fro, and for the visitor that only came on windswept, stormy nights such as this. 

A creaking on the stairs signaled his arrival as if on cue, and the hollow sound of his footsteps echoed along the tiny corridor that led to this would be sanctuary. The key turned effortlessly in the lock, and the rain drenched figure entered; tugging off his saturated long black overcoat he took the only seat in the room and exhaled. 

As if noting his mood the downpour outside intensified, each torrent of rain pounding on the grimy glass windowpane like some hammer from the very bowels of Hades. The man smiled at the connection his mind had made, because hell was indeed where he belonged. How long could he continue the tasks he had been set without detection? How long could his already tortured mind carry out these foul deeds? 

He stood and paced across to a dark cobweb filled corner, not wanting to reflect on his own transgressions, but all that awaited him was the mirror. Every time he came here he was forced to look at it, forced to gaze upon his own agonized soul. Tonight was no different; the spineless creature that he was stared back at him like a paragon of evil. He may still be a man, but could he be considered a human? 

The thought tantalized him more and he touched the reflective glass with his fingertips, letting every tactile sensation run through him. He may not be normal, but here he was master of everything. He smiled, and then hated himself for it. Hated the way his personality had become like a double-edged sword. 

The only escape now was to finish the task and pray for his own quietus, his own ending to the insanity. With the realization, he pushed hard on the center of the mirror and it popped open with a slight groan. Beyond lay the darkened chamber only he and one other knew about. Here he kept his tools, and his brutal trophies. 

On the wall lay an empty mount, which he swiftly filled with his most precious of implements. The samurai sword slid effortlessly into the cradle that had been made for it and sat there innocently, despite the amount of blood that still stained its already chipped blade. The blood made him wince at the memory of what he had just done, because some part of him, some alter ego reviled the atrocities he did in the name of self- preservation. Still, it made no difference, for now it was time to add the new trophy to the two he already had. 

With his head held low as if he didn't wish to see his own depraved work, he drew out the item. A gory red mush met his hands as he pulled it from the aged burlap sack he had swathed it in, and as he gripped the long flowing black hair of the severed skull he felt his own stomach begin to wretch. 

The eyes were always the worst, staring at him accusingly from their long dead sockets. He stifled the urge to lose his last meal, and then placed the decapitated head with the already decomposing forms of his previous kills. Three faces seemed to laugh back at him mockingly, faces of children who would never see their eleventh birthdays... 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Following Morning... 

The early city traffic droned relentlessly by the ten story apartment building, waking all but the heavy sleepers that dwelled within. The previous evening's rain had finally succumbed to a glorious sunrise as Metropolis began to come to life in a hive of activity, and as always this apartment was no exception. 

Clark Kent watched as the dawn sun's rays rose high over the skyscrapers and signaled the start of yet another busy day downtown. He had only been home a few short hours, and in that time his own conscience had afforded him no sleep. As a cop it was his job to protect the city, but when the shift ended his work secretly continued as he watched over those less fortunate than himself. Now, as he sat in his sparse living quarters, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right career choice after all. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how quickly he could respond, he could never be in two places at once. Dejectedly he gazed down at an old photo album and yearned to be back at Smallville High. It hadn't seemed like it at the time, but those days had been far simpler. 

Gently he flicked a ragged page to a newer set of photos, and found himself smiling as he looked down upon himself in his uniform. Martha and Jonathan had been so proud of him the day he got his first partner and had taken to the streets, proudly protecting and serving the community, but had that long ago decision been the right one? He would never be sure, but one thing he did know was that it had cost him his relationship with Lana. He sighed, suddenly feeling weary even though his body didn't tire. He still remembered the day he had told her vividly in his mind, expecting her to be happy about his choice, only to find her angered and upset. 

_"Don't you think I went through enough with Whitney? What is it with all you men, wanting to wear a uniform and go get yourself killed? Why can't you have a normal job? Why can't you just be normal!"_

The pain in her eyes had said it all, and although they hadn't split up right then, it hadn't been long after that things had taken a spiraling downward turn. Clark guessed fate just had other things in store for both of them. Now he wondered if there even was such a thing as fate. Maybe destiny was just another word for shaping your own life. 

The twenty-seven year old gazed around the room, glancing at what life had given him. The walls were plain pastel blue, nothing extravagant. A few neat and inexpensive pieces of furniture adorned the polished wooden floor, and in the corner stood his prize possession. Jonathan had given him the bright red Harley Davidson softail on his twenty-first birthday. 

_"Son, you've ridden the darn thing more than me, I figured it may as well be registered in your name..."_

Clark smiled as his father's words came back to him crisp and clear, then his gaze moved onto the chair next to the bike and he froze. The nine-mil police issue automatic sat innocently hanging in its leather shoulder holster, waiting for him to slip it on before his shift. Clark hated it, and he hated the violence that it stood for, but if he had to wear it to be able to do his job then wear it he must. That didn't mean however that he would ever use it. 

"Clark?" A soft and familiar voice echoed from the kitchen, "why is it you never get home till its time to go back to work?" 

Clark heard the door gently shut behind her as Chloe let herself into his home. They had been together for what seemed forever now, but they never seemed to be able to find time to spend with one another. The radio by the microwave clicked on and Clark guessed Chloe was eager for the early news as she made breakfast. Instead all she got was the classic Evanescence blurting out 'Bring me to life' so loud he thought the speakers would burst. 

"Another busy night?" The Daily Planet reporter queried, popping her head around the door as she rummaged in the almost empty cupboards. 

Clark nodded thinking of all the crimes he hadn't been able to stop. "I sometimes wonder if even I make a difference out there..." 

Chloe re-emerged from the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his huge frame. "You know you do! Anyway after today you'll be getting a little help..." She looked up naively into his now beaming face, but Clark knew with the glint in her eye that she had something to tell him. 

"What's so special about today?" Teasingly he gently tickled her side and she jumped back in surprise. 

"Clark!" Chloe feigned anger then smirked, "Captain Manning is giving you a new partner today..." She let the words sink in then suddenly had the urge to return to the cupboards in search of food. She knew Clark would tag along behind until he had extracted more information, even if he had to threaten her with more torture. 

The intrigued detective pulled out a dining chair and watched her rifle through his things. "So? How exactly did the roving journalist dig that up?" He sighed, eagerly awaiting her excuse for knowing internal police business. 

"Keep your hands off and I might tell you!" She finally conceded. "It's simple, my cousin Lois told me all about it..." Chloe grinned back slyly and tugged at a cornflake packet only to find it empty. "And you're wondering how she knows? That's simple too, she's your new partner! We always thought she'd go into journalism ya know but..." 

Clark's face showed his shock and surprise even further and he placed a hand to his temple in both worry and exasperation. "I can't have your cousin as a partner!" 

"You're telling me 'bullet-proof Kent' can't hack a female partner?" Chloe was enjoying the verbal sparring match now and wanted to take it up to the next level. It was always good practice before facing Perry White at the Planet's main offices. Waiting for Clark's reply she found the bread bin actually did contain bread and hastily pushed two slices in the toaster. 

"Chloe! You know it's not like that! I just can't afford to be seen 'doing things'. Especially not by your cousin." He looked at her pleadingly then glanced at the nearby wall clock and realized it was time he got ready. In a second he had traversed the room, grabbed his gun and jacket, and was back in front of Chloe. 

"Pete can't fix things forever you know. How he got you through the police physical I'll never know, but he won't be Mayor Ross for all eternity. What will you do then?" She scrutinized the toaster, exasperated that it still hadn't popped. 

Clark flashed her his ice-melting smile and shrugged. "I'll improvise?" Then he grabbed her and pulled her forward in his arms till both their eyes met. "Why didn't you get upset when you found out my secret Chloe? I wouldn't have blamed you?" He softly asked unexpectedly. 

Chloe liked this game. "Because I love you?" She smirked, planted a fleeting kiss on his lips then pulled away and looked back to the toaster. "You do realize your toaster is kaput? What will I eat? I really think it's time you went shopping ya know?" She rolled her eyes and for a split second it was like being back at the Torch's office so very long ago. 

The already late for work detective grabbed both pieces of bread, tossed them in the air and in a flash super-heated the slices with his eyes, just like he used to back on the farm. As they fell back down he grabbed them and had spread them with jelly without Chloe even perceiving him move. "I need a toaster?" He couldn't help but quip. 

"Show off!" She took a section anyway and began to amiably chew on it, "so, before you disappear in a puff of smoke or whatever. Any news on the 'Rainman' murders I can give to Perry to appease his Monday morning rage?" 

Clark's mood instantly changed and his face grew somber. It was this spate of attacks that had brought on his early morning melancholy, and until the beast was caught he doubted his mood would change. Only the previous evening his captain had asked him to take over the case because his old friend Brett Falmer had had enough. Brett had a young kid of his own and the gruesome killings were playing on his mind far too much for his work to be detached and impartial. Clark had accepted the job without question, because if anyone could catch this monster he could. The grisly decapitations weighed heavily even on him, probably because his sister Karyn was the very same age as all the victims. He shuddered reflexively at the thought. 

"I'm taking over the case." He finally divulged, "But I don't want anything in the papers yet Chloe?" He gave her a disparaging look and she appeared to comprehend his meaning. "Besides, now I have your cousin to deal with I think I'm in enough trouble..." 

Chloe grinned and finally finished off the slice in her hand before heading over to the door. "Oh you'll love her trust me!" She grabbed her purse from the dining table as she passed, then remembered an almost forgotten fact, "and don't say I didn't remind you that Lana and Byron are supposed to be coming over tonight..." 

Clark nodded. "Don't worry I hadn't forgotten..." Then he locked the door behind them and began to fret even more. The child murders were on his mind, and if this Lois was half the woman Chloe was he was in for one hell of a ride to boot. The last thing he was going to worry about right now was entertaining two old friends. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Metropolis Police Department. 

Precinct 13. 

Lois Lane ambled through the brightly lit corridors taking in the feel of her new home away from home. The walls were almost pure white, and the place had the smell of some sterile environment, as if it had been meticulously cleaned only moments earlier. In fact it had the aura of a hospital more than a fully functional police station, and she instantly found herself liking it. There was no disorganization; no general mêlée like was often seen on cheap cliché ridden cop shows. 

Lois rounded the corner smiling at her last thought and almost bumped into her new superior. He smiled affably then took note of the name on her badge. 

"Ah detective Lane, I was just on my way to meet you..." He held out a welcoming hand then gestured to a sizeable office by a set of overlarge windows. "I'm Captain Manning, if you hadn't already guessed..." 

Lois had in fact seen the senior officer's picture in several articles on how to run an efficient station, and was quite impressed with his high standards. For now though she kept the information to herself, not wanting to appear too forward. 

"I've heard a lot about you, and I'm looking forward to working in your department." She smiled taking the chair he pulled out for her. "I have however also heard rumors that you want me here to spy on a certain officer? And to be honest I don't like the idea..." 

Manning nodded brushing a hand through his graying moustache. He could understand how rumors could get around, and how this one had obviously snowballed as usual. "I don't want you to spy detective. I just want you to do your job, but also to let me know if Kent does anything that could endanger his own life or that of a fellow officer." The commander leaned back in his chair pleased that Lane had come right to the point with her feelings, he like that in a person. "I've had reports for months now saying he can act rather strangely, and then there is the matter of him not drawing his weapon..." 

Lois analyzed what she was being told. She had heard all the crazy gossip about this cop too, and frankly she'd thought most of it was hearsay, at least until now. Some people said he had never drawn his weapon on duty once, even if he'd been in the middle of a shootout. The question was did Manning want to fire Kent, or save his life? She looked her new boss straight in the eyes, making note if he could hold her gaze and surprisingly he did. His soft expression and apparent wisdom told her he was sincere, but then looks could still deceive. 

"I still detect doubt Miss Lane, and I can understand that. Look at it this way, unless he does something you feel is inappropriate you don't have to tell me a thing." He shook his head, "I've met his parents and I just don't want to be the one to have to tell them I let their son get killed." 

The female cop could understand that reasoning, after all her cousin Chloe was going out with the guy. If he had some kind of death wish Chloe deserved to know. "If he does anything strange I'll keep you informed sir." 

Manning seemed satisfied with the answer and smiled. "I sincerely hope you have nothing to report other than how much you're enjoying it here. I like Kent, he's good at his job, I just don't want him in a coroner's meat wagon some day." The captain rose from his seat, tugging his jacket together. "Now let me introduce you to the rest of our humble homicide department..." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After a few formal introductions Manning had left Lois to her own devices, assuming she would mingle with the rest of his staff far better if left alone. Now she was wondering just what she had let herself in for. Not only had every single cop she had met so far told her this Clark Kent was crazy, but some even said they would refuse to be his partner if their life depended on it. One had even told her they nicknamed him 'Robocop'. When she had inquired why the duty sergeant had laughed in her face and simply answered. 

_ 'Because he thinks he's a man of steel and nothing can hurt him'._

After that she had wearily found the desk that she had been assigned to and awaited his arrival with baited breath. As she glanced at the wall-clock she realized he was already late and found herself gazing at a nearby fish tank out of sudden boredom. Its tropical occupants mesmerized her and she didn't even hear anyone approach. 

"He's not as bad as they say you know?" 

Lois looked up to see a blonde haired cop grinning like a cat at her. He perched himself on the edge of her desk and folded his arms as if he intended staying there all day. "And you would know because?" She found herself snapping the words out before she had thought them through. 

"Because Clark and I were uniform partners straight out of police academy. My name is Brett Falmer by the way..." He held out a hand and Lois took it apologetically. "He's actually the best cop around here except for the gun thing..." 

"It's true then, he won't draw it?" Suddenly Lois had forgotten all about the fish and sat up straight in front of her desk. 

Falmer nodded, but was still grinning. "It's true. Although I've never known him need to. You know he has the highest score on the weapons range too? Weird isn't it that he refuses to use a gun out on the streets. In fact, he has the highest arrest rate for anyone in this precinct, now you tell me how a guy does that?" 

"Hard work!" Clark finally appeared from nowhere, late as always. "Don't you know it's rude to talk about someone behind their back Brett?" The words sounded serious but the young detective was smiling as he said them. "And I take it you're Lois?" 

She nodded. "You must be the guy Chloe never shuts up about." 

Brett laughed and finally left his seat so that Lois could pop her laptop on the now empty workspace. "He's the one nobody shuts up about!" He threw a mock punch Clark's way but found it was dodged effortlessly as usual. "All bad so I hear..." 

Clark couldn't help but grin as his ex-partner jogged back to his own desk as the phone on it began to ring, then he turned his attention back to Lois. She was setting out all her items neatly before her, arranging the work area as ergonomically as the space provided would allow. She noticed him watching as she booted up her slim-line Compaq and turned to him questioningly. 

"Where do you keep all your notes? I'll need to be brought up to speed on this case right away." She tapped gracefully at the keypad opening up a new file ready, but Clark shook his head. 

"Most of the stuff I keep in here till I have to make a report." He patted the side of his skull. "It's safer that way, and besides, I only just got the case myself. Brett was working on it but it got too much with his family and all..." 

Lois frowned unimpressed with his reasoning. "You don't keep organized records, you don't draw your gun, is there anything you do actually get right?" 

The detective shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I catch the bad guys?" 

His new partner groaned knowing she had walked straight into his trap, and suddenly found herself liking him despite all that she knew. At times he looked far too young and naïve to be working homicide, then on other occasions she had already noted he had a strange quality about him that made her want to know more. Maybe his unique personality was what Chloe liked, but for now all that Lois knew was that for some reason she had no fear of going out on a case with him, even if the other cops did. 

"Kent? Lane?" Both officers whirled around in the cool air-conditioned room to see Manning poking his head out from behind the glass paneled door that led to his office. "We've got another kid's body dumped out in the suburbs..." 

For now the introductions and evaluations of one another were over. It had been the news neither cop had wanted to hear, the news that meant that two killings had grown to three, and that they were now definitely dealing with a serial killer the local press had already dubbed 'The Rainman'.   
  
  



	2. Memento Mori Part 2

  
  
_Firstly I'd just like to say Thanks to everyone who is reading/reviewing this fic. Your comments are most appreciated!_   
  
  
The Metropolis Files: Memento Mori Part 2   
  
Metropolis P.D. Crime Scene... 

Clark pulled his steely blue unmarked Crown Victoria into a tight parking space at the end of the now cordoned off street and emerged into the sunlight, shortly followed by his new partner. As Lane fell in step beside him she slipped on a pair of dark shades and found herself compelled to interrogate him more. 

"So you're telling me if we ever got into a corner with this guy and he had a weapon you wouldn't use your gun? After all you've seen he does to these kids?" Her tone indicated that she would in fact shoot the guy in a heartbeat should the need arise. 

Kent pulled up the yellow police tape to enter the crime scene and flashed his shield at the uniformed officer guarding the site. "It's always hard for me to explain, but I just don't see how the world will ever change while violence brings about violence. If I shoot this guy then I become no better than he is." 

Lois walked carefully around where several crime scene investigators were working and wished she could agree. She took his point very seriously, but as she gazed down upon the remains of some poor ten year old it was hard to think of anything other than an eye for an eye. The beast that could decapitate an innocent young girl like this deserved to be caught and punished and she intended to make that happen. Carefully she kneeled beside the corpse as the coroner examined it for evidence before its removal. 

"What kind of time frame are we talking?" She glanced at Clark then the female medical examiner. "I would assume from the fact that it rained heavy last night that our guy did this between maybe nine pm and three am?" 

The examiner nodded, gently taking samples with a gloved hand. "Without getting the body back it's only guesswork, but I wouldn't say you were far off the mark..." She looked up from her work momentarily and her brow furrowed as she glanced at Clark. 

Molly had been the M.E. on several cases Kent had been the primary on and up until now she knew he'd had no partner. He smiled at her unspoken question. "They finally got me in a corner Molly. This is Lois Lane my new colleague." 

Molly smiled but never acknowledged the introduction. Instead she engrossed herself back in the task at hand. She had been doing this job for some fifteen years now and could never find the time for niceties. Niceties cost time that could catch a murderer. Clark had come to appreciate her no nonsense attitude and leaned in closer, scanning the cadaver with his x-ray vision to speed up the forensic process if at all possible. He hated this part of his job, and doubted he would ever totally get used to seeing the heinous crimes that one man could do to another, but in the end he was here to try and stop it occurring again. After a moment he fought back the nausea he always still felt and carried on with his examination. 

There were no obvious clues to the perpetrator, but as he zoomed in closer to where the head had been severed he perceived something metallic embedded in a tiny section of the damaged spinal column. He scrutinized it further and found a craftsman had folded the steel expertly. It had been a very long time ago but he had seen this kind of work before. The memory came back to him as he stood and suddenly distanced himself from the grisly fly-ridden body. 

He had been at the Luthor mansion at the time, taking in Lex's extensive armory. To any young teenager it would have brought about feelings of awe, but to Clark it had personified violence too. He remembered how he had looked upon the crafted samurai blades, and how Lex had told him that the weapons were things of beauty, only dangerous in the wrong hands. Now as he turned back to Lois he knew they were too dangerous to even exist. What worried him most was a fact he wouldn't reveal to anyone just yet though, the fact that he suspected the weapon being used was the very same one he had seen in Lex's collection that day. It had been the most expensive and ornate Katana in the set and he had given it the most attention. No one else could know it, but with Clark's x-ray vision he could identify things on a molecular level just like a fingerprint. 

"Molly, you might want to take a look around the top of the spine there," finally he broke from his thought and pointed out his discovery. "I think there might be something our murder weapon left behind." 

Lois' brow knitted and she was just about to ask how he could know, but Molly undaunted cut her off. "Oh, but whatever is in there isn't from the murder weapon..." She left the sentence hanging to tease her police colleagues. 

Clark leaned in again and revaluated the evidence. "The beheading was post mortem then?" 

Molly beamed. If Kent hadn't become a cop he could easily have taken her job with his keen eye for detail. "Yes. It was totally redundant because the poor little thing was already dead. From the marks around the neck tissue that's left I'd say he strangled her..." 

"Then why take the head?" Lois stood from her crouched position and gazed around the yard where the body had been dumped, wondering if the skull was nearby. "Do you think it symbolizes something, or is this just another nutcase who's seen Highlander too much?" 

Clark didn't know for sure, but his experience told him this was not just some indiscriminate psychopath. They were hunting a man who had purpose and reasoning behind his actions. Finding that reasoning was the clue to solving the whole case. On an impulse he checked out the corpse again, this time using all his visual skills to their maximum. Every limb, organ, and bone was checked out on a molecular level in less time than it took to blink an eye. At first everything appeared normal until he let his focus dig deeper into the maelstrom of chromosomes and D.N.A. 

Each double helix Clark saw contained the building blocks of life that this poor girl had inherited from her parents, but there was something more here too, something so perfectly crafted that it had to have been engineered in a lab rather than being left to a chance of nature. Clark was no microbiologist but it appeared to him that some of this ten year olds genes had been toyed with. It reminded him all too closely of a cloned little girl named Emily Dinsmore he had encountered long ago. That thought coupled with his earlier discovery led to only one name. 

"Luthor..." He let the name slip before he had even thought about it. 

"Senator Lex Luthor?" Lois and Molly both gawked at him as the almost whispered words left his mouth. "What has he got to do with any of this?" Lois prodded for more information and began to sound just like her cousin. 

Clark shrugged and slipped on a pair of shades of his own to match his partner's. "Probably nothing..." His pupils narrowed to points, "but if he has I intend to catch him." Casually he glanced back at the busy coroner. "Can you get me a D.N.A. test on all three victims? I think we'll find some startling similarities." 

Molly got to her feet and finally peeled off the bloodied latex gloves she abhorred wearing in the midday heat. "I'll get right on it, but what makes you think we'll find something there?" 

Kent smiled and as he turned to return to his Ford muttered his cryptic reply. "I shut my eyes in order to see..." It had been a long time since he had heard the phrase, and a long time since he had seen the raconteur who had recited it. 

Lois jogged to catch her partner up and threw her purse in through the car door before staring at Clark with her most bemused face. "I didn't know ex-farm boys were interested in quoting artists like Gaugin?" 

Clark settled his sinewy frame behind the wheel and fired up the car's V8 engine with one flick of his wrist. Once Lois was inside he disengaged the parking break and smoothly pulled away onto the gravely dirt road that lead behind the housing estate. 

When it was safe to take his eyes from the dirt track he looked over and finally answered with a wry smile. "Sometimes people can surprise you..." 

"So what does it mean?" She was getting impatient now, another parallel with Chloe Clark mused. 

"An old friend told it to me a long time ago." The sentence was both abrupt and to the point, and as Clark turned a sharp right back onto the highway Lois thought she saw a glint of anger in his eyes for the first time since they had met. 

"Do I detect animosity between you and said person these days?" She watched for any tell tale signs of evasion but saw none. 

"It was Luthor who quoted it. We used to be pretty good friends back in Smallville, right up until he was involved in that plane crash. I'm sure you heard about it?" Clark tapped the brakes slightly as the car in front slowed; apparently something up ahead was causing a gridlock. "He came back from the accident a changed man. I thought I knew him but I was wrong. Shortly after the crash his father died in suspicious circumstances and Lex was the prime suspect. Some say Lionel had the plane rigged and Lex wanted revenge...I couldn't bring myself to associate with him anymore after that, and I guess we grew apart. Some say he went the way of his father..." 

Lois nodded. "Worse, he became a politician! So seriously, what makes you think he's involved with these murders?" A static hiss from the police radio caught her attention and she delicately retuned it to hear the dispatcher's report, forgetting their conversation for a moment. 

_"All cars in the vicinity of Fifth and Main, we have a 10-35 in progress...please respond..."_

Clark looked at the clutter of vehicles ahead and smiled. "A little late to warn us we have a roadblock huh?" Impatiently he scanned the surrounding area to find out the cause and realized a local jewelry store was in the process of being relieved of some of their finer items. The thieves had purposefully cordoned off the highway to facilitate a quick getaway, and were now hopping into a red Mustang with their loot. "This is Henry-Victor seven; send all cars to the south end of Fifth and Main..." He keyed the mike on the steering column and gave the dispatcher more information on what was occurring. 

Lois scowled at him and flicked on the hidden sirens and lights behind the front grille. "Don't just sit there while the cruisers head them off, let's cut through this mess and give chase!" She slapped a hand on the dash to try and get through, but Kent turned off the engine. 

"If I try and cut through all these cars innocent people could get hurt! Those guys won't care if they drive on the sidewalk to escape once they see our lights in their rearview. They'll panic. The cruisers will stop them don't worry!" In that moment he hated having a partner, hating being restrained from what he did best. As Lois looked at him with an expression of disgust he decided the waiting time was over. "I'll be right back..." 

"What?" Lois looked on in amazement as he bolted from the car and took off down a seedy side street. "Hey, you can't catch a Mustang on foot...and that's a dead end back there anyway..." 

Kent took no notice and vanished behind a pile of rotting cardboard some vagrant called home, racing down the alley at super-speed once out of sight. Lane decided she wasn't waiting for his sheepish return when he found out there was no exit that way, and instead jumped behind the wheel of the car herself. "Out of the way!" She yelled at the helpless drivers in front and they obediently drew up on the sidewalk to let her pass. 

Unfortunately as Kent had surmised she had gained more than just their attention, and as the unmarked police car made it clear of the traffic jam the Mustang's driver up ahead spotted her too. In an instant his thoughts turned to the life sentence he would surely get if convicted of yet another offence after his long string of convictions. The thought didn't please him and he floored the gas pedal on the sports car, taking to the sidewalk when other vehicles didn't clear his path quickly enough. A destructive wake of debris was left behind as the Ford ploughed onward, and Lois was forced to drive through it all in her pursuit of justice.   
  
Clark let his body's momentum slow as he reached the dead end Lois had warned him about, he did not however stop, as she had anticipated he would. Instead he quickly glanced around for unseen observers, and then let his alien ancestry take hold in earth's gravity. His whole frame seemed to suddenly become weightless and he soared over the towering brick wall like a bird hopping over a fence. His movement was both swift and graceful, landing on the opposite side with a soft thud. Before setting off again he used his x-ray vision to look through the adjacent buildings and check the route the Mustang was taking. To his surprise it had just spun down the neighboring alleyway, tires squealing as Lois gave chase. If she had done as he had asked the cruisers would have it boxed in by now, but instead it had a chance to get away. Knowing he had little time he hopped yet another steep wire fence obstruction and came to rest just behind the speeding getaway car, arms folded. 

The Mustang was only yards away from breaking back out of the tight alley onto the highway now, and if Clark didn't stop it here he wouldn't be able to use his abilities to give chase any further. In a heartbeat he had weighed up the situation and found a local landmark that would suit his purposes. The ornate metal streetlamp sat innocently at the alleyway's entrance, guarding it like some sentinel of light. The stars and stripes hung loosely from a golden armature that added to the curious effect. The image somehow seemed poetic to Clark as he focused his heat vision at its base and began turning the aged iron into molten metal. 

As the Mustang's driver raced unwittingly in its direction the tired iron finally gave way like an ancient oak being felled. The post groaned then snapped straight down onto the oncoming car's hood, crumpling it like a sledgehammer just as Kent had planned. Both forward airbags kicked in as the Ford bounced from the impact then settled back to the road with a metallic whine. Clark inspected the interior as he approached and noted neither occupant appeared to be more than dazed. The thought pleased him and he tore away the front passenger door with one hearty yank and dragged out the unsuspecting villain within, shortly followed by his gruff associate. As he slapped cuffs to the stunned duo Lois at long last screeched around the corner sirens blazing. She slammed on the brakes just short of the crushed vehicle and hopped out with a look of sheer astonishment on her face. 

"How the...what did you do, fly here?" The confused detective's gaze analyzed the scene, but she could come to no satisfactory conclusion. 

Clark had the urge to say yes, but at that moment his anger got the better of him. "If you had waited like I said there would have been none of this! No devastation on the sidewalk, no high speed chase." He handed the key to the cuffs to an arriving patrolman and walked away shaking his head. When Lois followed, irate at his smug attitude he turned back to her in desperation. "Don't you see sometimes its better to use brains than brawn? Heroism is fine if you don't put innocents in danger..." 

Lois opened her mouth to give a suitable retort, but instantly found herself speechless. She didn't know how he had gotten to the bad guys before her, how he had traversed a twenty foot brick façade and managed to get in front of a speeding sports car, but what she did suddenly realize was that maybe his ethics were right. In a world full of violence and mayhem, somehow she had discovered a man of truth and justice, and maybe something more...   
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
Clark Kent's Loft Apartment....   
  
Clark took the old style freight lift at the back of his apartment block and rode it silently up to his floor. No one else used this elevator anymore, only Clark on the odd occasion he took the Harley back home. Tonight he was riding it to escape any unwanted conversations with the other residents. They all knew he was a cop, and several had already begun asking awkward questions about the 'Rainman' that as of yet he had no answers to. 

The ancient lift ground to a halt with a hoarse grunt and Clark emerged from the flaking metal gate that kept passengers safe. He ambled to his door with his jacket over his shoulder, and from within he could already hear pots and pans clattering as Chloe began to cook dinner for their guests. 

"You cooking already Chloe?" He smiled tossing off his jacket onto a nearby chair, shortly followed by his holster. He was always glad to lose that part of his attire at the end of a shift. 

Chloe appeared spoon in hand and looked at the detective scoldingly. "Yes, I'm cooking, although how you expected me to do anything with two slices of bread and a half eaten jar of jelly I'll never know!" She rolled her eyes mockingly, and then sighed. "I've been down to the grocery store and stocked up your kitchen. You know it would be so much easier if I lived closer..." She heard an unexpected hiss from the oven and ducked back in the kitchen just in time to save Clark from an awkward conversation. 

He knew very well what Chloe was hinting at and had to smile to himself as he dropped hard down on the couch and flicked on the T.V. The plush elongated cushions were inviting to him and he snuggled in further, ready for a rare night at home away from the world's woes. 

After a moment Chloe popped her head back around the door for a second, as she tasted her own cuisine. "Oh, by the way, Pete called. He said he needed a word when you have time?" 

Clark shrugged and flicked through the channels with the newly found remote. One thing x-ray vision was always handy for was finding the T.V. controls. "I guess it must be about the murders..." He said absentmindedly as his gaze fell on an old sci-fi classic. 

When he didn't say anything further Chloe vanished yet again and Clark engrossed himself in the movie. He had seen it on many occasions in his life, and yet every time it aired he felt compelled to watch it again. As the screen lit up with the title _'The Day The Earth Stood Still'_ Clark found himself wondering once again what humanity was all about. In the movie an alien had come to earth to try and teach us our mistakes before it was too late, to help us understand where we had gone wrong, but in the end mankind had shunned and feared him. It scared Clark to think that maybe he would be viewed the same way if anyone ever found out his true origins. 

"Lana and Byron should be here from Grandville around eight..." Chloe was shouting from the kitchen now as she slaved over several pans. Clark considered switching off the movie and offering to help, but then as always he smiled to himself as he decided against it. Instead he began to think about Lana and Byron, and how people's fortunes could change so easily and unexpectedly. 

Lana had always liked the unfortunate kid whose future had almost been ruined by Metron Pharmaceuticals. Ever since her first meeting with Byron there had been some connection even Clark hadn't been able to surpass. Later, when Byron had returned to Smallville cured from his terrible aversion to sunlight it had obviously been love at second sight for the pair. Clark had never stood in their way; he and Lana had already split with irreconcilable differences anyway. Perhaps somewhere in his heart he would always have a place for the former cheerleader, but now she belonged to another and Clark was happy for them both. 

A flicker from the T.V. told him Klaatu the alien was about to pull off his piece de resistance and Clark reached to turn up the volume, only to be stopped by a soft rapping at the door. Exhaling, Clark popped down the remote on the glass coffee table and jogged to answer the unknown caller who had interrupted his sacred viewing. 

"Lois?" He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice as he ushered his new partner into his home. "I wasn't expecting you..." 

Lane pulled a face of exasperation. "Neither was I but Molly called with those D.N.A. test results you ordered. I don't think she expected to find this..." Lois tugged a manila folder from her over-large purse and passed it over. "Preliminary results show all three kids shared a certain set of genes. Apparently it looks like something called germline manipulation..." 

Clark began to read the facts laid out on the lab results as he flipped rapidly through the report. "They were all genetically engineered by the same person, but where and why?" 

"From what Molly tells me only one part of the genetic information in their cells was redesigned, and as of yet she doesn't know why. She's passed the data onto a colleague in that field of expertise." Lois shook her head and finally sat down on the edge of Clark's favorite chair. "There's something else...I checked with all three kids' parents and they all had difficulty conceiving..." 

A spark of recognition flicked Clark's mind into overdrive. "They were all I.V.F. kids? Then all we have to do is find the clinic the families used and we have our lead!" 

"I'm one step ahead of you super cop, I already checked and they used three totally different centers. Whoever did this must have broken in, or had a man inside all the facilities. Either way we are talking big time corporate research, not just some rogue doctor." Lois sighed and found herself attracted to the ancient black and white movie Clark had been watching, even though she normally disliked such hollow nonsense. 

Clark had however forgotten the film as Lois's words sank in to his racing mind. "We need to get a list of every baby conceived by I.V.F. in Metropolis back in 2003! Then we have to get their D.N.A. tested and fast before this guy strikes again..." Without further thought he grabbed his jacket and reluctantly swung his holster back in place. "It's crucial we get on this now...Chloe?" He shouted into the kitchen. 

After several minutes pause the weary reporter emerged in her apron and finally realized her cousin had joined them. She smiled then her eyes narrowed as she suspected the inevitable. "You've come to take him on some police joy-ride! Lois I knew you being his partner would be disaster to our meal, not to mention or lives. What about Lana and Byron?" She considered why her relative had appeared. "This is about the murders isn't it? Wow, what have you found, are you close to catching the guy?" 

Suddenly Chloe the journalist took over Chloe the host and it was interrogation time. Clark shook his head, determined not to get drawn into one of her long-winded prying sessions and swiftly headed for the door with Lois in tow. "No time now Chloe, just give my apologies to our friends, but we might just save a kids life..." 

Chloe opened her mouth and was about to beg to tag along, but this time it was Lois who stopped her. As the female detective reached the door she turned beseechingly to her relation and glanced around the room. "You have a chance here with Clark, stay out of this Chloe. This guy plays for keeps, and if he's cornered I doubt his victims will remain children..." 

Quietly the door clicked shut as Lois left the room, leaving her cousin to ponder the case and her very hectic future with one of Metropolis' finest...   
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
A Metropolis Alleyway...   
  
The dull evening light and darkening cloudbanks brought a gloomy overcast to the bustling Kansas municipality. Shadows of light and dark crept across the squalid brick back streets, playing eerie reflections across the crumbling walls as rats and mice scurried about their business. The Rainman watched from his hidden recess in one such alley as the day gave way to night, and the world became his empire. Darkness was his friend, his ally, and tonight he would use it to his best advantage. 

A roaring engine from the main road caught his attention and he turned to watch the black sports car approach, tires screaming. Its shiny panther-like coachwork gleamed even in the nocturnal dullness, and the killer knew instinctively who the driver was, even before he saw the vanity plate emblazoned with the unmistakable LL insignia. 

The Ferrari Modena raced forward at a ridiculous speed in such a tight passageway and skidded to a halt just a few short feet from the unseen observer. Its lightweight aluminum door popped open and a smart dressed figure emerged into the twilight gloom. He sauntered carefully into the shadows till only his silhouette was visible. 

"Why are you not taking care of my business on time? All my father's 'discrepancies' should have been removed by now..." The driver tugged off expensive leather gloves and rammed them into his jacket pockets irritably. "I want the rest removed or you don't get what you need. Do you understand?" 

Concealed until now the killer emerged from his place of hiding. His face showed no emotion, no fear towards his tormentor. "I cannot simply kill without meaning, without the scene being set..." 

"Ah, you mean your insane desire to have it rain before you kill...I won't wait to pamper your crazed sense of morality. Words mean nothing my friend, as you will learn if the children are not removed by the end of the week..." Luthor moved forward till his eyes met the assassin's. "Kill them, or meet the consequences of your disobedience." 

A cold brutal gaze stared back at Luthor, but no words were spoken. The killer turned, his long flowing overcoat flapping in the evening breeze like some gothic vampire's cape. Silently he walked to a broken down door in a side building and grabbed the rusty handle, only turning at the last minute to leer at the billionaire with a face that no longer appeared human. 

The eyes seemed to absorb the sparse light like two black holes as he whispered his words of malevolent knowledge. "Carpe Noctem Luthor...for soon it will rain...and you shall have your solace." 

The fleeting figure vanished into the decrepit, derelict cinema that would soon be torn down and was gone into the night. Luthor licked his lips as the moon finally materialized for one brief moment and illuminated the scene. It was like something from a horror movie, and the creature he had just met only attenuated the feeling of dread. Unconsciously he let a hand slip into his jacket pocket and felt the comforting coolness of his thirty-eight. If things became out of hand there was always the option of removing 'The Rainman' once he had succeeded in his goals.   
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
Henry-Victor Seven...   
  
The car paused briefly at an intersection then carried on into the night, its bright halogen headlights cutting through the murky light with a vengeance. A spatter of rain dashed across the windshield, signaling the start of a deluge that made Clark Kent turn the wipers to their maximum setting. Since this case had begun he had dreaded any night that it rained. Now he only wished the downpour could wash away the evil instead of cause it. 

"What's the next family on the list we can't contact by phone?" Kent peered at his partner a second then pulled over to the curb to await directions. 

Lane checked the vehicle's onboard database as information was relayed to them from dispatch, and then flicked the screen over so it displayed the quickest route to their new destination. "The Atkins haven't answered all evening...they're at 121 Pescadero Drive. It's only about ten minutes away..." 

Clark spun the wheel of the car around and headed back the way he had just come. The Atkins were just one of many on a long list of couples who had used an I.V.F. clinic back in 2003, but they were only one of eleven that had yet to be reached by phone or a patrol car. Maybe it was coincidence that they were not home on such a stormy night, but then maybe they had the bad luck to have been visited by a very unwanted guest...   
  
Pescadero Drive appeared unusually quiet as Kent crawled the Crown Victoria along the road searching for the right house number. It was early in the evening, and yet hardly any of the homes appeared to be occupied. Not one light shone in any window as far as the eye could see, adding a strange malevolence to the already disturbing scene. Carefully planted trees blew haphazardly in the wind that accompanied the recent cloudburst, heightening the sense of foreboding as the detectives continued their search. 

"This place looks like somewhere for the Addams family..." Lane made the observation whilst powering down her window to get a better view. "Ok, the Atkins house should be the next..." For some reason she found herself tugging out her weapon as Clark pulled up and she exited the blue Ford, heading for the spacious one story home. She hadn't actually seen anything to arouse her suspicions, and yet this place suddenly oozed evil to the point Lane felt a whole lot safer with her gun drawn. 

Kent jumped from his driving position and out on to the pavement, but before continuing towards the house he decided caution was the better part of valor. Squinting he forced his x-ray mode to kick in and surveyed the neat and tidy home before him. The front of the abode appeared quite empty except for the family cat, which was pacing around impatiently as if waiting to be fed. To the rear things became much more interesting...and very deadly. 

The Atkins had extensive gardens and a very over-sized pool that looked like it belonged to some Hollywood actor, not a Metropolis resident. It was what was now floating in that pool that concerned Clark. Two adults, both face down in the water floated aimlessly as drizzle fell from the heavens onto their already soaked cadavers. Kent zoomed in more and found the couple each had a neck-wound that corresponded with the sword he was looking for, although their heads hadn't been removed. 

"Lois!" The detective kept his voice low, "we've got two bodies around back..." Swiftly he jogged in front in case the perpetrator was still close by. "I think it's the parents..." 

Lane pulled her gun tight to her chest and let her trigger finger hover, ready to fire should the need arise. She glanced at Kent as she realized he seemed to have an almost psychic knowledge of the crime before they even saw it, and silently she made a mental note to question him about it once this scene was under control. "All clear here." She whispered as she rounded the corner and found herself on a spacious terrace. 

Kent nodded and appeared to stare into the fauna filled area near the bottom fence section. It was like a mini forest, but to his trained eyes he could still see within. Lying beneath several layers of dead leaves lay what they had come here hoping to avert. 

"The kid's dead too..." The words were slow and forlorn as Clark spotted the still warm, headless body of Jamie Atkins. He walked over to it and kneeled, careful not to disturb the scene for fear of ruining vital evidence. This time though he needn't have bothered, because pinned to the blood stained Batman t-shirt was something the Rainman had not left before. "It looks like our guy wants to say hello..." 

Lois tiptoed through the fallen foliage and joined the doleful cop. With a gloved hand she gently twisted the bloodied note just enough to discern the words. "Imprison me for I shall never be free." Casually she looked at Clark, "so what do you think that means exactly?" Kent shrugged. Some inner part of him had heard the words, or something very similar at one time in his life, but right now he was struggling to remember where. Perhaps given longer the answer would have come to the astute detective's mind, but right now his hypersensitive ears had honed in on something else. Nearby he could clearly hear something splashing, then hitting the ground in tiny droplets. To a normal human it would have been impossible to distinguish from all the background noise of everyday occurrences, but to Clark it meant the spattering of liquid on the sidewalk. Perhaps even the discharge of blood from a recently severed head... 

"Stay here!" Kent barked the order to his colleague then jumped the fence with one high bounding leap. Behind him he could already hear cursing and then Lois making a dash for their vehicle to pursue him. _Next time don't leave the keys in the ignition!_ He chided himself for the miscalculation, then continued his quest for the killer. 

Ahead a car fired up and Clark knew it was the heavy drone of an expensive sports model. The purring V8 reminded him of Lex and his frustration brought about a new burst of speed. He could see the taillights now as the killer jerked the car off the road onto a well used dirt track, and behind he could hear the sirens as Lois attempted to follow. The thought occurred to him that she might spot him running at super-speed, but catching the Rainman was still his top priority and he carried on regardless. 

The cobbled track seemed to slow the car as its tires and suspension struggled to cope with the uneven surface, then it turned again and raced to the rear of a huge and very bleak building that carried no markings or company insignia. Weeds encroached the parking lot and the whole edifice seemed quite abandoned. Clark followed and finally caught up with the vehicle as it entered a creaking shutter door that had been electronically opened. Sheer seconds were between him gaining entrance, but the door frustratingly slammed back down at the last moment and he almost careered into it. Stifling the urge to hammer a fist straight through the corroded metal he searched for the access unit and found it conveniently placed halfway up the wall in a shaped alcove. One burst from his heat vision in just the right spot and he should be able to get in. 

"I don't know how the other guy did it, but I have orders no one goes in there and comes out alive, and that includes you!" 

Clark whirled to see a middle-aged man, well dressed and rugged in appearance, staring at him questioningly. He held a Beretta trained at the detective's head and Kent had no illusions that he wouldn't use it. Not that it would do him any good... 

"I'm with the M.P.D." Slowly he began to reach for his badge, but the man didn't appear to like the idea and waved his weapon menacingly at the cop. Clark took it as a bad sign and began to wonder just what the man was protecting. _Should I overpower him, or try and get him to let more information slip..._

"I don't care if you're the Pope, you not going in there, and when I'm done with the other guy he'll be wishing he hadn't either. Key card or not he shouldn't be in the labs..." 

The guard let his words trail as a blue Ford sped into the disused parking lot, its normally hidden police lights blazing. For a moment he appeared uncertain how to handle the situation, and then as Lois skidded to a halt and poked her gun through the driver's window he came to a very imprudent decision. 

"Put your gun down and walk over here lady, or your buddy here gets it..." He signaled towards Clark with the Beretta, assuming that he would have to dispose of both cops or face the wrath of his very short tempered master. 

Lois kept perfectly still; having no intention of relinquishing her weapon to a man she knew would probably kill them both if he had the chance. "We don't work that way..." 

Clark watched the stand off in silence, his patience wearing thin as he lost precious time in his hunt for the assassin. He turned slightly, intending to search the warehouse for the villain with his razor-sharp vision, but the movement he made startled the already edgy guard. 

"Hey!" Without thinking the sentry pulled his trigger, letting off at least three rounds in Clark's direction. One hit the metal shutter with a staccato scream, the other two slammed into Kent's back as he twisted around. 

Lois screamed and let off a round of her own, but it smashed harmlessly into the brick wall. Then she jumped from her car as the guard leapt over Clark's body and through a key-coded side door. She thought about giving chase then considered her downed partner first. "Oh my God...please tell me you wore your vest..." panicking she rolled him over and he grunted then began to rise. 

"I wouldn't leave home with out it," he unashamedly lied, hating to have to feign being knocked from his feet by a bullet when he could be halfway through the building after both bad guys. "I think we could use some backup, go call for another unit then circle around back..." He coughed as he stood, just for dramatic effect and it had the prescribed response. 

"Are you sure you're ok? I mean a bullet can still crack a rib wearing one of those things..." She stared at him for an intense second, but Kent didn't give her time to think about much else. 

"I'm fine, now get that backup." To reassure the already concerned detective, he pulled out his police issue for the first time on duty. "Happy now?" 

Lane looked skeptical, but hastily trotted back to the car to call in. When he was sure she was busy with dispatch Kent re-holstered his weapon and quickly dealt with the shutter lock. After agonizing seconds the door began to rise with a clunk that sounded like it had required oiling for decades. Clark jogged inside and swiftly closed the entrance behind him, not wanting Lois to get anywhere near both offenders. 

The interior was pitch black and dusty; giving the impression the warehouse was no longer used. But as Clark made his way up to the second story he soon found the derelict and deserted front was just a façade. Room after room lined vast corridors and all seemed to contain some experiment or other. Most had vials of drugs and chemicals, centrifuges, burners, the full scientific set up of a major laboratory. _Why hide a lab like this in an apparently disused warehouse? And why has the Rainman purposely lured me here?_

A clatter from a sealed entrance at the far reaches of the passage refocused his concentration and he zeroed in on it, only to be thwarted by the lead lining that filled the extra thick wall panels. Intrigued and determined to catch the murderer Kent sped to the doorway and grasped the tough metal handle, squeezing it in his huge but sensitive palm till it broke off under the pressure. Pushing hard on the already strained locking mechanism, he caved in the security door with one thrust of his muscular shoulder. 

Inside was gloomy once again, but Kent could see this was no lab. In fact it appeared to be some kind of storage area. Huge crates and barrels filled the bottom end of the unit, and it was here where the smashing sound had come from. Before he could investigate further the reason for the noise became all too apparent. It would seem the guard had found the first trespasser and had come out fighting. A bullet whizzed by Clark's ear as the man fired at the silhouette of what was surely the Rainman. 

"Hold your fire! Neither of you are going anywhere..." This time Clark was sure he had the edge on both men. There were no witnesses to see his abilities, and hopefully Lois had backup well on the way by now. 

Effortlessly he positioned himself between both aggressors with one burst of speed. Intending to deal with the killer first he whirled around, only to catch a fleeting glance of a shiny steel blade before something hit him like a freight train at a hundred miles an hour. It was a sensation he hadn't felt since leaving Smallville a long time ago, and it was a sensation that could now cost him his life. Clark felt pain so intense all his muscles began to spasm and he slumped downward, knowing kryptonite or its derivatives were close by and overpowering him. 

Seeing the cop suddenly fall, the guard felt compelled to finish the job he had started and squeezed of several more rounds. One flew by the Rainman perilously close and slammed into a shuttered window. The glass shattered but remained in place, cracking like some evil omen. Two more slugs tore into nearby barrels of some unknown and very noxious green liquid, spurting its contents onto the floor and beyond. Emerald-white steam hissed up from the floor where the chemical had spilled, but the guard was unphased and fired again. This time a stray bullet hit an aging pipe section and ricocheted, sending a flash of brilliant sparks across the room. The sudden flare of electricity combined with the mephitic substance caused instant combustion. 

Clark watched helplessly from the floor as the scene unfolded, and the irate guard grew ever closer. He stared down at the paralyzed detective with a look of scorn on his face, letting the muzzle of his gun hover in front of Clark's bleary eyes. 

"I'm going to be blamed for this mess...and all because of you!" He coughed as the already dense smock whirled around him in ever-increasing clouds. "If I die you're going with me!" 

The Beretta's barrel was ungraciously pushed to Clark's temple and he was powerless to fight back. Not only was the kryptonite sapping his strength, but the smoke its ignition had created had begun to burn his lungs every time he inhaled. Each breath became more ragged as he tried to stay conscious and fight the debilitating effects. If he could have summoned enough energy to either freeze or blow out the raging flames he might just have stood a chance, but his body had already been drained far too much. 

The sheer effort of trying to use his abilities made his vision blur and brought on another bout of coughing. He gazed up at his tormentor knowing this to be the end, and wondering what Chloe would think when Lois told her how he had died. Would she even be able to believe it after all they had been through together? Clark exhaled letting his body relax as he saw the trigger begin to be squeezed, then a bright flash of shiny metal sliced through the air, its widening arc carving into the gunman and almost cutting his torso in two. Blood jetted from the cleanly cut wound all over Kent, then the lacerated body slumped hideously on top of the weakened cop and he finally blacked out. Nothing save a crazed killer now stood between him and a fiery oblivion...   
  
  



	3. Memento Mori Part 3

Thanks everyone for reading, here's the next part! Special Thanks to agge, RG, Caitlin1689 and The Die Hard for your reviews.   
  
  
Lois called in her request to dispatch for backup, and then ran lightly back to where Clark had been only moments earlier. Frustratingly her partner had now disappeared, and the only means of entry had been destroyed. She peered questioningly at the ruined swipe unit that had somehow been seared through, then began to hammer on the metal shutter with her fist. 

"Kent, let me in! We're supposed to be a team. You're not a one man army!" The words echoed in the alcove she stood in, but there was no reply. 

Standing back, Lane looked up to the second story of the building to see if there were any lights or signs of life, but there was nothing only darkness and the quivering of a bat as it hunted some unknown prey. She turned; hoping to gain entrance through the door the guard had used, but before she could attempt to shoot out the lock a faint rumbling caught her ear. On impulse she looked up again just as the sound built to an earth shattering crescendo. As the noise became unbearable the upper story windows exploded in a shower of glass and flames, sending wreckage and burning debris raining down from the heavens. Lane's first instinct was to try and get inside once more, then her training took over and she ran back to her vehicle to call for more help. The duty sergeant took her rushed request in hand; whilst Lois watched the structure that held her partner burn with an intensity so fierce she feared he had no way to escape...   
  
  
Raging flames flapped in the night breeze, licking up the secret facility's walls unhindered. Smoke billowed into the cloud filled night sky, its strange green hue illuminating the surrounding area with a devilish glow. Lois watched from her vantage point, powerless to help the fire crews as they battled the impossible blaze. She placed a disillusioned hand to her temple, wondering how to explain this to Manning and Chloe. _The captain told me Kent could have some kind of death wish, why didn't I take more care?_

A patrolman scurried passed and Lois caught his arm. "Do we know if anyone made it out? There were at least three in there, maybe more." 

The inexperienced officer shrugged. "Not as far as I know ma'am. The fire department say whatever caused this is burning pretty fierce though..." 

Lane took in his words; the news was nothing more than she expected. Dejectedly she began to head back towards the car when a blur of motion caught her eye. Through the jumble of cops, fire crews and E.M.T.'s she had seen someone being carried from the rear of the blazing building. Recognizing Clark's suit, she hastily began to push her way through the milling crowds towards the ambulance gurney where he had been deposited. Her mind stayed focused on her partner, never thinking for one moment that the Rainman himself had just saved Kent from the jaws of death. 

More sirens wailed in the distance as she approached where Clark now lay. At first he remained unmoving, and she prayed the two paramedics at his side were not working in vain. Then as she drew closer and one unbuttoned his shirt to sound his chest, something hit her so hard she had to pause in mid step. _What's wrong with this picture?_ She blinked, thinking her eyes were playing tricks from all the smoke and dust in the air. _Kent's not wearing a vest...he had no time to remove it...how the hell did he survive those shots earlier?_

Realizing her partner was now coming too and pushing off both medics in a panic, Lois decided to keep quiet about her discovery and see how the scene played out. After all there had to be some rational explanation. She trotted over just as Clark finally convinced the E.M.T.'s he was capable of sitting up. 

"I don't need to go to the hospital!" His voice rose slightly as he argued with the two men, then when he noticed Lois his mind turned back abruptly to the case. "Did you see the guy who brought me out?" 

Lane considered it. Truthfully all she had seen was a fleeting glance of a long black overcoat, and Clark slung gracelessly over someone's shoulder. "I didn't see much beyond a half dead partner." She scowled growing angry at his recklessness. "Manning warned me about you! Next time don't bring me along if you want to commit suicide!" 

Clark glanced at the medics for support, and then rolled his eyes when they appeared to agree with his partner. "I'm fine. The thing I don't get is who carried me out? It had to be our killer, but why?" Stealing a look down as he spoke, he hastily re-buttoned his shirt hoping Lois hadn't noticed his very bare chest. 

She played along, saving the cross-examination for later. "Maybe he's one of those psycho's that actually want us to catch him?" Lois raised a brow, "but why did he lure us here in particular?" 

Clark coughed as the microscopic particles of kryptonite still tickled the alveoli in his lungs. "There has to be a reason. He even had a swipe card to gain access...and why was that guard so hell bent on stopping us seeing inside?" He wheezed out the last sentence as he coughed out more of the tiny deadly green molecules, and Lane frowned yet again. 

"You really should go to the hospital," Her voice softened, "Smoke inhalation can be pretty dangerous. Even if you feel okay, symptoms can surface hours after you were exposed..." 

Clark pulled a face of frustration, and to prove he felt fine tugged himself up from the gurney and on to his own two feet. "You sound like a doctor, not a detective." He complained, heading as far away from the ambulance as he legs would carry him. 

Lois smiled for the first time in awhile. "I must get that from my dad, he's retired now though." She peeked at Clark for a reaction, and noted the information seemed to startle him. _What are you so afraid of? What dark secret are you hiding?_ Still not ready to confront him, Lane carried on with the far more important murder inquiry. "While you were attempting to spontaneously combust," she quipped, "I spotted that car over there. I'm guessing it was the guard's." 

Clark followed her hand gesture and saw the tail end of a late Chevy poking from a nearby tree line. It bore no markings, but he agreed with his partner about likely ownership. The question was could it be linked back to Luthor? Reading his mind Lois reached in through the open window of their Ford and unclipped the radio mike. 

"Henry-Victor Seven requesting a 10-28 on late Chevy..." She paused, leaning over to get a better view of the license plate, "Lincoln, Adam..." Unexpectedly Clark took the unit from her hand and cancelled the call. He smiled and was greeted by a scowl in return. "Just what did you do that for?" 

"I doubt the car has any direct link to Luthor...at least not registration wise. I think if we take a look inside we just might find a better clue..." He raised a brow perceptively, and Lane was reminded of the all-knowing Spock in Star Trek. Secretly she chided herself for watching such a show even as a kid, and for classing her new partner as some would be alien. 

"So what do you think is in there?" Lois peered into the dimness of the vehicle as Clark donned a pair of latex gloves and tugged open the passenger door. "In fact, why don't you tell me just why you suspect you'll find anything? Especially if these people are pros..." 

Kent ignored her remarks and leaned across the seat at an angle, slipping his free hand underneath, and tugging out a barely legible piece of paper. The edges were torn and ragged, and the ink had long lost its depth, but to Clark the words written on it were still quite readable. 

"It's a pretty old pay check..." He held it to the light and Lois squinted to see what he had, but her efforts were in vain. 

"How can you see that?" Lane made the comment sound like a jest, but truly she meant the words more seriously with every moment she spent with him. "Okay...so who paid whom?" She was getting so impatient for answers now she could almost punch someone. 

"Metron Pharmaceuticals paid Richard Cummings several hundred dollars. And seeing as Metron have been out of business for quite some time this must be a pretty old paycheck..." Abruptly Clark began to cough again, and this time he found it hard to stop. 

Lois grabbed his arm in no uncertain terms and deposited him in their car's passenger seat. "So we have our Luthorcorp connection with this Metron thing. I think in your condition that's quite enough for tonight. I insist you go home, or in that ambulance..." She motioned with her thumb back to the emergency vehicle, but Clark wasn't giving in so easily. 

"We should stay on top of this! Kids lives depend on it." Casually he wiped a hand across his mouth, wiping away tiny droplets of green moisture, "maybe we should get some surveillance on Luthor before he realizes we're onto him...." 

Lois stomped on the floor like some incensed buffalo and grabbed the car radio once again. "You either go home and rest up, or I call Manning and have him pull you off the case. It's your choice, but I know Manning is shadowing you..." 

In truth Clark knew it too and right now the way he felt, maybe an early night wasn't such a bad idea. Reluctantly he shrugged and hauled his legs into the car's foot-well. "I guess if you're so concerned you better be my chauffeur home!" A grin spread across his weary face as he opened the glove box and slipped the check into an evidence bag. 

Relieved, Lois jumped behind the wheel and hastily headed out to Kent's apartment before he decided to change his mind.   
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
Kent's Apartment Twenty Minutes Later...   
  
Clark ambled down the passageway, expecting Chloe to be still waiting for him after their guests had departed. Instead as he rounded the corner he realized the flat was in darkness. No light filtered below the door, and no sounds came to his highly trained ears. Puzzled, the detective tried the door and found it locked. Slipping his key in he undid the door and flicked on the lights. The room, and indeed the whole apartment were quite empty. 

Patiently awaiting him on the dining room table sat a carefully folded note in Chloe's handwriting. Smiling, he opened the paper and read the lovingly composed message. 

_Clark,   
When I explained to Lana and Byron about your case they said they'd come over Friday instead. Your dinner is in the microwave...I have to run, Perry has an exclusive scoop for me that won't wait!   


Love Chloe xxxxx

  
P.S. You know it would still be easier if I lived closer..._   
  
The not so subtle hint on the bottom of the page made the detective smile. One day this girl was going to pin him in a corner like no bad guy ever could. Delicately Clark placed the note back down, not wanting to destroy it for some irrational romantic reason, and then dropped himself down into his favorite chair and sighed. Maybe now that Lois had gone home he could go back out on the streets? He toyed with the idea whilst loosening his collar, and then froze as his almost radar-like hearing picked up a movement at the door. 

Without even turning to use his extraordinary visual skills he grinned. "Mayor Ross, shouldn't you be at home planning a campaign speech or something? And don't you know it's rude not to knock?" 

"Aw man, you got me!" Pete Ross dived into the apartment, and to Clark it was suddenly like being back in Smallville. Out of the reaches of the public eye, Metropolis' youngest ever Mayor reverted to his former fun-loving self, and even wore jeans and a t-shirt to prove it. He looked his old chum over, then took a seat opposite. "You look beat! Which is kind of worrying, because you never get tired..." 

"Let's just say I had a busy day with our 'Rainman', and a pretty unexpected cloud of kryptonite vapor." Kent pulled himself from the now very restful seat and headed for the kitchen to make coffee. "You do realize the time?" 

Pete nodded and padded in to take the beverage his friend was making. "I figured if I wanted an update on our killer I would have to catch you home. Which from what I understand is a pretty hard task..." Gratefully he took the black coffee he was handed and took a sip from the steaming mug. "This string of murders is getting to everyone...we need answers..." 

Clark nodded and whilst pouring his own drink recounted the day's events to his old friend. "Ever since I spotted the sword particles in that kid's neck I've had my suspicions, but this last lead just seems to prove my theory...It has to be Luthor." 

Pete agreed without reservation. "My family knew what the Luthors were all those years ago, when they cheated us out of our business. The question is Lex is so good at what he does, how do we pin all this dirty work on him?" 

Kent smirked and placed his mug down on the worktop. "I think it's time the Torch's finest came out of retirement..." Without saying more he ambled through an adjoining door and into his humble bedroom, while Pete waited patiently for his return. 

The area where Clark slept greeted him with its soft blue hues and dancing shadows, and he felt grateful for its relaxing aura. On the brief occasions he had time to himself it was nice to simply lie on the bed here and pretend he was as normal as the next man. Now though there was more to do. 

Swiftly he jerked open the wardrobe door and looked at the clothes in the last compartment; their simple, purposeful design bringing back thoughts of home. He hadn't worn them in quite awhile, but as he slipped on one of the dark flannel shirts its familiar comfort seemed to fill him with warmth. Next came jeans, followed by a pair of buckskin leather boots. 

When he reappeared into the kitchen moments later, Pete grinned. "Now that's the Clark Kent I used to know! So, what are we about to do?" 

Clark shrugged and took one last sip of his almost cold drink, then tipped the remainder into the sink. "I'm going to do a little spying on Luthor. You better go home...we can't have Mayor Ross getting his name in the papers. And besides I don't want you in harms way. Luthor is playing for keeps this time..." 

Pete had heard all this before. Clark had always been the overprotective one, always wanting to shield his friends from danger, but Pete had responsibilities to the people of Metropolis now, and he wasn't about to shirk them. "I'm not that kid in Smallville anymore Clark, and neither are you. I can take care of myself. And anyway, I won't stay Mayor long if I don't get to the bottom of this mess!" 

Clark stifled the urge to laugh, because he knew his chum was blaming politics for his own inquisitive nature. "I don't know who to blame most for how you turned out. Mayor Siegel for training you up in affairs of state, or Chloe for your zest for adventure." 

"Ha! At least I didn't turn out a cop like you! I still can't get used to the idea, but seeing as your partner is absent, I feel it's my civic duty to accompany you..." Pete feigned a deadly serious deep voice, and contorted his face into a grave and solemn expression. 

"Okay..." Kent waved a hand in defeat and reluctantly grabbed the car key's he had thought he wouldn't need, "but you owe me for this. I want Lane reassigning at the very least! I can't do anything with her watching over me." 

"I wish I could, but it's too tricky right now. Your captain Manning is onto something, and if I push it...I don't know how you've gotten away with all this for so long with just my influence..." 

Pete's suddenly humorless features told Clark he wasn't joking this time, and that his life as a cop might soon be coming to an end. The thought sobered him and his resolution doubled. If he was to be forced into retirement, his one last act would be to take Luthor down with him...   
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
Senator Lex Luthor's Office Building...   
  
The dark night skyline seemed to be filled with towering edifices of power and graceful beauty. Each structure closely packed to the next for maximum use of space in the ever growing central area of the city. 

Clark looked up at the immense skyscraper that belonged to Luthor, and was glad of the architect's skill in cramming it in so tightly next to the neighboring buildings. Tonight he would need to be both stealthy and covert if he and Pete were to achieve anything, and the close proximity of each building would surely help shield him if the need should arise. 

"So what do we do now?" Pete raised his hands questioningly, and then glanced warily around the back street as if Lex already had spies watching them. 

There was no one to be seen, but the darkly lit area could hold a plethora of secrets. In the distance a security alarm to some downtown building began to scream, heightening the sense of apprehension. Slight traces of steam billowed from a nearby grating in the cool night air, adding to the trepidation both men felt. 

Clark stared for a moment back at the upper stories, knowing Lex occupied the penthouse. "I can get up there without tripping one single sensor or camera..." 

"Can't you just see and hear from where we are?" The Mayor hopped lithely from foot to foot, becoming nervous at their nocturnal endeavors. He wasn't scared of being caught, or the repercussions on his position, but mostly for his friend's secret. 

Clark nodded. His vastly tuned senses could penetrate the high rise without moving from the spot. He could hear and see anything he so chose unless it was shielded with lead, but tonight for some reason he had to see Lex, and after all this time look into the man's eyes without using his visual gifts... 

"I have to see it from up there." He pointed into the darkness where only faint lights indicated Lex's office; it was so far into the heavens. "It's hard to explain..." 

Pete suspected he knew his old friend's reasoning and stayed silent. Clark had thought the world of Lex, and even now it was still hard for part of him to think of the man as anything less than a surrogate brother. Maybe tonight the final remnants of that bond would be broken forever, and a murderer would finally be brought to justice. 

"I guess I know why you put your Kansas farm gear back on then...I imagine it's darn uncomfortable flying in a suit!" The lighthearted Mayor winked as he watched his chum launch himself towards the stars, then turned swiftly to lookout for any clandestine interlopers that may intrude on their mission. 

Clark let his body become weightless in the earth's gravity, his agile form showing just how elegantly he could control his own flight. A breeze wafted past him, ruffling his hair as he almost seemed to float up to Lex's huge Plexiglas windows. An invisible air current carrying the airborne cop to his final destination. From within he could hear angry voices as he began to hover like a hummingbird to survey the scene... 

The thunderous tones of Tchaikovsky's 'Tempest' blared throughout the office, the very walls reverberating with the power of the amplified orchestra. _Perhaps Luthor is trying to hide his illicit conversation from possible surveillance devices?_ Music might just work with conventional taps, but not with Kent's abilities, he simply edited the music out of his auditory range and continued to listen. 

"I want that sword back!" It had been a long time, but Clark instantly recognized Lex's irate tones. "How the hell did you let it come to this? You do know its incriminating evidence?" 

A short and very robust man stood before Luthor, taking the verbal slamming without flinching. He appeared to be about forty with already graying hair. Below his jacket he wore a standard Smith and Wesson in a shoulder holster, and was probably had already used it in Lex's service. "I didn't expect it to come to this sir, but I will retrieve 'the item'." 

Lex slammed himself hard down in to the office chair he had recently vacated, and threw a letter opener that just happened to be available at the employee before him. It clattered harmlessly onto the carpet just short of its target, and the unabashed minion retrieved it, returning it to its former home. 

"I'm sorry Simpson..." Luthor's boiling temper dropped a notch, but the raised veins in his very bald forehead showed he was still simmering. "This whole mess could ruin my career, and for what? That sword has to be destroyed or it will cost me more than my seat in office. I know the cop working on this case, and believe me Kent won't back off now..." 

Simpson nodded, acknowledging he wasn't doing enough to protect his superior. "I'll get the sword back..." The man paused as a fleeting reflection caught his eye. It had been nothing but a silhouette on a far wall behind Lex, but it had intrigued him. Flipping his jacket back and placing his hands on his hips he braced himself for the impossible. "Senator Luthor...move away from the window please." 

The words were firm and authorative, and for a second Lex thought about complying. He had been taught however that a Luthor always faced fear, so instead he whirled about in the direction of his protector's gaze. It was crazy to think that anyone could attack from the window, and yet Simpson appeared certain he had seen something. In unison the two men raced to the glass façade that served as a window, and for one split second something flashed before them in a blur of distorted motion. 

"What the...?" Simpson hauled his handgun from his holster in one adroit motion, and rammed open the security latch to slide the top portion of the monster sized pane. Before anyone could say other wise, he let off two rounds into the blackness and heard them ricochet on the next building's metallic fascia. 

"Put that down!" Lex grabbed the weapon and pulled down Simpson's outstretched arms, "Do you want every cop in Metropolis out here? Besides, what the hell were you shooting at?" Luthor looked at the man as if he had lost his mind. 

Simpson shrugged, "There was something out there, I don't know how you could have missed it..." A cold shiver ran down the man's back as he said the words. He had heard all about the rumored Luthor experiments; maybe he had just seen one in the flesh. 

Lex looked at Simpson as if he were delusional. "Just get me the sword..."   
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
Pete heard the sound of gunfire resonate through the air, and his fears became suddenly all too vivid. Clark was bullet-proof, but if he had been seen that could still cost him his life. The anxious Mayor looked up, squinting for some sign of what was occurring, but there was nothing only the twinkling of the odd star through the clouds. 

A rogue piece of the previous day's Daily Planet blew past on an unexpected current of air and Pete whirled, the sudden movement causing panic and dread. "Aw Man!" 

Clark stood before him, arms folded, gently blowing the ragged paper around with tiny puffs of his breath. Pete's eyes narrowed and he scowled, then punched Clark on the shoulder without thinking. It was a playful punch, but his fist still came off the worst for it. 

"Ouch! Sometimes I wonder why I hang around with you. And what was all that shooting?" Ross rubbed his already bruising hand as Clark looked on apologetically. 

"I was used for target practice by one of Luthor's goons. I don't think he saw me, but I saw him, and I heard what they were discussing..." The detective's face seemed to turn somber. "Come on, I'll tell you about it on the way home. It's just a pity we can't use my evidence in court..."   
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
Outside Kent's Apartment An Hour Later...

Dull, low hanging clouds drifted across the Metropolis skyline as night became day, and another morning began for Clark Kent. He had just dropped Mayor Ross off at his home on the outskirts of town, and now it was time to start another shift for the M.P.D. Getting no sleep however, didn't bother his ever powerful body; nothing short of the deadly green kryptonite could bring fatigue to this cop. 

A light drizzle began to break from the heavens as he eased the Crown Victoria into the parking spot he always used, and as he killed the ignition a thought of the assassin ran through his mind. _He's never murdered in the daylight, what makes you think he will now?_ Kent didn't know why, but the rain, coupled with Luthor's rage the previous evening worried him. If it hadn't been for the change of clothes he desperately needed he would have sped straight into his office. Walking into work in farm clothes wasn't the kind of impression he wanted to give to Manning right now though. 

Reluctantly Kent hopped from behind the wheel of his vehicle, and squirmed when he spotted the red Jeep that had just turned onto his street from the next avenue. It was Lane, and he had no intention of letting her see him like this. Lois was no fool, and it wouldn't take her long to realize that he had still defied her and pulled an all nighter watching Luthor. The only option now was what Pete had once jokingly referred to as a 'quick change'. Checking for people who might spot his actions, Clark launched into super speed and raced up his apartment's stairwell, taking several steps at a time. Zipping through the door, he was in his best work suit and back down just as Lois was exiting her Grand Cherokee. 

"I see you're up bright and early. Feeling better after a good night's sleep?" She looked him over; convincing herself he was fit for duty, and then pulled out a folder from the passenger side of her vehicle. 

Clark's heart sank as he saw it. Usually those folders meant only one thing. "I'm alright, but I suspect from what you have in your hand that someone isn't?" He offered to take the documents from her and she passed them to him as if she were glad to be rid of them. 

"There was another murder in the early hours, and another bizarre note too. Take a look." 

Clark flicked through the preliminary report till he came to the page he required. A crystal clear photo of the evil message glowered at him from the file. Its edges were splattered with dark red blood, and it was obviously attached once again to the macabre remains of some unfortunate's body. 

_Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me..._

Lois watched as he read the message, then flicked a stray piece of hair from her eyes as the breeze and drizzle did their worst. "Our people are checking on the source of these notes. I've also got those two medics who helped you last night to work with our sketch artist. Their description is a little vague, but it's a start." 

Kent pursed his lips as his rapidly functioning brain collated the evidence to its optimum usage. _What if I was right, what if Luthor is pushing the killer to work faster? And now it's raining again..._

"Are there any kids we haven't contacted on that list from yesterday?" 

Lois was way ahead again. "We haven't been able to make contact with two families. We've sent patrol cars to both homes though." 

Clark's face contorted with a new kind of anguish. "You have the addresses on both? I really don't think our guy would care if he had to kill a couple of uniform cops..." Without waiting for a reply he jumped in the waiting Ford and fired its still warm engine back to life. Lane attempted to jump in beside him, but Clark waved her off. "No, you take one family, I'll take the other just in case. Give me one of the locations..." 

Knowing her unconventional partner had a valid point, she nodded and reeled off the address in double quick time. Without pausing to thank her Kent gunned the gas, leaving streaks of rubber adhering to the roadway as he raced the unmarked car's engine to its limits. 

After a quarter of a mile, he checked the rearview and sighed with relief. There were no other vehicles in sight, so he pulled the overheated Ford into the nearest alley. Speeding through early morning traffic, sirens blaring was far too antiquated a way to catch a mass murderer. Instead Clark peeled off his jacket and tossed it back in through his car window, launching himself into the heavens with one sinuous leap...   
  
  



	4. Memento Mori Part 4

Thanks for being patient everyone, and Thanks for all your reviews!   
  
  
The Weiss Residence...

Clark landed discreetly to the rear of the Weiss home, its expansive gardens leaving ample room to make an inconspicuous entrance. In the driveway he could see the police cruiser parked under a multitude of conifers. It was still visible enough to hopefully provide some kind of deterrent, but Kent was concerned the two cops on duty might think their presence enough to ward off the bad guy. That would be a serious mistake. 

Unassumingly he strode across the well cared for lawn and approached the cruiser, tugging out his badge from his back pocket to show the on duty officers. As he neared the blue and white he froze, seeing a uniformed arm hanging limp from the driver's side window. Congealed blood covered the deathly white fingers that drooped lifelessly in the looming shadows. 

Clark scanned the vehicle without getting any closer, the motionless hand giving off some portent of the evil he would surely now find within the house. 

Both officers lay where they had been slain, each man carrying an expression of shock as if they had been caught unawares. Their throats had been sliced, but their heads not severed from their bodies. Had there been time for sentiment, Clark would have gagged at the sight of what turned out to be two old friends. As it was he placed his attentions back to the Weiss home, and what deadly sins lay inside. 

Cautiously he stepped onto the veranda and gently slid back the glass patio door, careful not to touch anything that might need to be dusted for prints later. Once inside the home he began to use his visual acuity to its maximum potential. Scanning every well kept room for signs of life, or of the 'Rainman'. 

Downstairs appeared to have been left untouched, each meticulously neat area showing no indication of any kind of struggle, or altercation. The kitchen told an almost eerie tale of urban life, every place set for a full breakfast. Clark felt the cups and noted the coffee within them was still warm to the touch. Whatever had happened here had been recent and fast. A ghostly tale from earth's past, about a ship found adrift with the table set came to his mind, and he found himself paralleling this scene with that of the _'Marie Celeste'_. What ethereal tale did this home have to tell? 

Upstairs Clark perceived music playing, the volume so low only his auditory reach would detect it. With the hope he could still perhaps save a life, he sped up the staircase in double quick time, scanning each bedroom as he reached the top. 

Across the landing, more bloodstains spattered along the bright pink walls, dashing all hope of survivors. And in one corner a handprint stamped in red, guided the detective to two more decimated bodies. He didn't need to look for their I.D.'s to know it was the Weiss's. Their corpses lay huddled together near a doorway, as if somehow they had made one last attempt to crawl here and save their son, despite the horrific injuries inflicted upon them. 

Clark read the kid's nameplate lovingly affixed to the closed door. 

_Daryl, The Best Son In The World Resides Here!_

Gulping, Clark gently pushed on the handle, suddenly not wanting to x-ray the room for fear of what he would see yet again. Inside was strewn with clothes, C.D. cases, and various other items typical of a ten year old. Posters adorned all four walls, mainly of rock groups, and on the bed lay the source of the music Clark had heard. A tiny MP3 player had been jury rigged to a set of speakers, and as its batteries slowly died, so was the volume of the music. 

Clark gazed around, surprised that there were no signs of a struggle or blood anywhere. Perhaps Daryl hadn't been home when the 'Rainman' had called? The detective whirled around; about to tug the radio he always carried in his back pocket out and call in when a white piece of paper blew across from the window sill. Carefully he caught one edge of the note, realizing it held not only another message, but a bloodied, smudged finger print. 

_Death be not proud, though some have called thee... _

This time Clark didn't finish reading the lamenting verse; instead he finally recalled where he had heard it before. 

"It's John Donne, one of Lana's favorite's..." The whispered words to no one in particular wafted through the empty bedroom as a long repressed memory caused Kent to panic. 

He belatedly pulled out his radio, then paused as the Bon Jovi song 'In These Arms Tonight' began to hum from the MP3 player. It was as if the music added fuel to his already ghoulish suspicions, and fear overwhelmed him. 

_'I need you, like a poet needs the rain...'_

Without further thought he keyed in his access code and hastily called into dispatch, "I want an A.P.B. placed on Byron Moore immediately, and can you patch me through to Detective Lane?" While he waited for the patch he continued to call in what he had found, asking for further backup and forensic units to be sent to the scene. 

After ten tense minutes Lois finally pulled up outside in her Cherokee, preferring to access the scene in person rather than radio contact. As she jumped from her vehicle Clark jogged out to meet her. "There's no body this time, there's always the chance the kid is still alive! We need to find Moore and fast." 

Lois eyed him with her most skeptical look to date. She was no amateur at this game and had requested Moore's details on the way over. "You're worried that Lana, you're old girlfriend is involved too aren't you?" 

Clark had to admit he was, but then he was concerned for everyone involved, not just one person. Whether it was Lana or Daryl, they had to act fast. "We need to find him Lois, do we know where he and Lana are supposed to be staying?" 

Lois nodded. "We have a S.W.A.T. team on the way already. Manning is on the ball with this, but to be honest I doubt we'll find him there. He has to know we're getting close, maybe he even wants us to catch him remember?" 

"You think he wants a last stand? That's why he kept this kid alive?" Clark could see where his partner was going, it was logical, and yet it didn't explain the Luthor connection. If Byron had escaped what their evil experiment had inflicted on him, why would he do all this for Lex now? It was no coincidence of that Clark was sure. "Can you bring all the properties owned by Luthorcorp or Lex up on the database? Or anything that Byron might have registered in his name? I know it's a long shot but if he really does want us to find him..." 

Lois tugged her Jeep door back open and typed in the request, her fingers skipping fluidly over the down-sized keyboard. While she waited for a response she turned back. "And just why couldn't you do this? Where is your car?" 

Clark squirmed under her inquiring gaze, and was just about to spout a white lie when the in-car screen blinked with the information they had requested. Using the split second that Lois turned to his advantage, Clark super-sped up behind, read the data he needed, and was just a vanishing dot on the horizon as his colleague whirled back around. Lois's brow furrowed quizzically at his sudden disappearing act, but then she was sorely getting used to his evasive tactics when it came to having a partner...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
A Squalid Downtown Building...   
  
Moore inspected the Katana in his possession with a kind of reverence, its evil blade glimmering in the soft candlelit backroom where he stored his trophies. A rat scuttled across the floor, unafraid, and he was tempted to slice it. Whatever part of him that had been remorseful about his crimes had been at last eradicated by repeated doses of the Luthorcorp drugs he had been given. There would never be a cure for the sickness Metron had caused, only a treatment to curtail its effects. Those were the cruel facts that Luthor had laid out to him. 

A voice, both terrified and angry called out his name from where she had been tied. "Byron why? Please you need help..." 

Lucky for Lana, that he had placed a burlap sack over her head before lighting the candles. Byron doubted she would stand the view otherwise. A short snigger escaped his lips as he gazed on the maggot ridden heads of his victims. The smell must be overwhelming to Lana and the kid, but Byron didn't mind it, somehow it tantalized his nostrils. Odors, contours, shapes, all inspired him to write his best work. Just like the rain motivated him to kill. 

"Byron Please!" Lana writhed on her seat, somehow knowing just who and what she had married, but not accepting it. "How could you kill children?" 

The poet refused to answer. Instead he ambled over to Daryl, the kid he had thus far spared. He too had been almost smothered in burlap, but unlike Lana remained silent, despite the taunts and overpowering dark gothic atmosphere. Moore ran the sword along the kid's swathed head, watching for the instinctive jerk back, but it didn't come. 

"Why don't you fear me boy?" He whispered threateningly into the youngster's ear, "you don't even squirm or cry like the others..." 

Daryl shuddered, his thin, wiry frame remaining static on the stool his legs had been tied to. "I can't fear what I already know..." The youthful voice cracked as the words came out, but his cryptic answer displeased his captor even more. 

"You already know what?" Moore brought the hilt of the blade to the boy's neck and slammed it sharply down. The blow was far fiercer than he intended, and Daryl slumped forward like a rag doll. For a moment Byron feared he had knocked the kid out, but then Daryl somehow regained his composure, and miraculously kept his seat. 

"I know about you, why you do these things, and I know what will be the inevitable outcome..." Daryl stammered out the words, slurring some of them as his bruised brain tried to say conscious. 

This time Moore ignored his response, and hauled off the sacking that had been his blindfold. With the tip of the historic Katana he raised the kid's sagging head by placing it under his chin. "Look over there boy, that is who and what I am." He pointed to the rotting heads. "You'll turn out the same. All Luthor creations do. It's better that you die now...I wish I had. The madness has to end, that's why I have done the unthinkable..." 

Daryl shied away from the horrific sight that greeted him, and tried in vain to raise his tethered hands to his face. "I already saw, don't make me look again..." The youth closed his eyes, rocking back and forth like he had entered some semi catatonic state. 

"How could I have married such a monster!" Lana still couldn't see, but she knew all too well what her husband was doing. What was worse was the thought that she had never once suspected what he had become. "How did you hide what you were from me?" 

"I loved you...still love you, but I could not change the monster Metron made me..." Byron wanted to say more, to explain his irrational actions as best his insane mind could, but outside the concealed mirror door he had heard a sound. 

Not wanting to alert his captives that they had company, but needing to be prepared for the inevitable, he stepped over to a long since boarded up window and began to remove the wooden slats. As the muted daylight began to stream in through the exposed, grubby glass, Byron began to change. The transformation appeared subtle at first, but then as Daryl watched, the poet seemed to turn into something not quite human. Had Lana been able to see, it would have been an all too familiar change, and not for the better. 

"What's happening?" The ex-cheerleader tried to turn towards the sounds her husband was making, but was hampered by her still secure bonds. "Kid, what is he doing?" Her tone became more hysterical as she began to guess the unthinkable. 

Daryl squinted, watching his captor, but finding his throat suddenly far too dry to answer. 

Byron was leering at the boy, his thickened brow giving him the appearance of something almost stone-age and untamed. In his hand the Katana whirled delicately in a sweeping motion, ever ready for the opponent he knew was about to enter... 

  
Clark landed on the rotting window sill of Moore's apartment and furtively slid open the decaying frame. There were no locks, perhaps because Byron thought it too high to be a security risk, or perhaps because he didn't care. Either way Kent had gained entry with the maximum of ease, and that was worrying. The room he dropped into appeared uninhabited; there were no signs of anyone ever actually calling this home, but then when Clark glanced around he noticed something he didn't even need x-ray vision for. On the floor, trailing from the door to an unobtrusive mirror in the corner were several sets of footprints ingrained in the thick carpet of dust. 

Cautiously the detective walked slowly over to the looking glass, its antique gilded frame reminding Clark of one his mom had back home. This mirror however was much less innocent than his mom's. Tuning his eyes to the exact level required, Clark let the reflecting glass surface melt away, revealing the macabre chamber that lay within. 

The first sight that awaited him was Byron Moore's almost possessed face gazing back through the mirror. It was as if he were waiting, just like they had suspected he would, and what was worse he wasn't alone. A long samurai blade sat menacingly under the missing boy's chin, ready to slice out in a heartbeat. 

"Come on in Kent...I was hoping it would be you who found me first..." Byron mouthed the words, letting Clark know that somehow he could see what was happening in the outside room. Perhaps he had a hidden camera or other monitoring device, but it didn't matter now. 

Not being one to refuse an invitation, Clark spared no time searching for the concealed latch, and with one strategically placed punch, obliterated the aged glass before him. It imploded into the secret room, sending shards of reflective material cascading onto the sparse wooden floor. 

"Impressive..." Moore's insincere smile made Kent shudder, "I remembered just how strong you were...I hoped you would be the officer assigned to the task of catching me..." 

Clark watched the tip of the sword dig ever so slightly into Daryl's neck. Somehow he had to pacify Moore long enough to formulate a plan. It would be easy to use his powers and save the day, but not if it put the life of a hostage in jeopardy. 

Byron sensed the cop's thoughts and backed away towards the now fully open window, dragging Daryl and the stool with him. "Do you really want to show off your strength in front of the kid here? Maybe I should remove Lana's hood too..." The poet taunted Clark, hoping he would react. When no such reaction came, he knew he would have to use more drastic measures. 

Tipping the sword till it began to dig into the back of the youngster's spine, he took one last look at his foe. "Stop me now Kent, or his head comes off!" 

Clark knew the sentence had been aimed at eliciting a response, but he also knew Moore would follow through if he stood and did nothing. Had Daryl not been so close it would have been easy to relieve his enemy of the Katana, but at this distance Clark wouldn't take any risks with heat vision or anything else. 

With little other choice, he used speed to his advantage and hurled his powerful body towards the window. It was what Byron had yearned for, prayed for even, and now it was happening he tossed the insignificant boy to one side. 

Clark crashed headlong into Moore as Daryl landed safely just yards away. The two battling strongmen slammed into the grimy window, shattering the glass, then recoiled just far enough not to go hurtling through onto the ground below. 

Moore brought up his weapon and swiped at his adversary with bone-wrenching blows. The blade rebounded from Kent's skin, tiny shards of metal tearing from its cutting edge where it had impacted with indestructible flesh. Byron scowled, but refused to drop his artistic weapon. Instead he dragged back his muscular frame and spun it again, ready for another assault. 

Clark retreated slightly, checking on the hostages. "Don't do this Byron. We can still get you help...we need to stop the real monster...the man behind this. Only you can help us do that." 

Moore laughed, and this time it wasn't the chortle of a mad man. It was the cold, fearful laugh of a man who knew there was no hope. He eyed Clark, shaking his head, then turned his gaze slightly as booted footfalls echoed from the landing corridor. "You'll never catch him...he's inexorable..." 

This time Byron launched himself at the detective, wielding the Katana above his head as he screamed some ancient, despondent battle cry. Clark dodged the first maneuver, and Moore smashed headlong into his own grisly trophy table, his garish hoard rolling slimily across the floor. The pause was momentary, and then the madman was charging again, this time at Lana. If he could not incense Kent to kill him for anything else, then surely for her... 

Clark predetermined his rival's plan faster than Byron could even think it, and placed himself between husband and wife for one last time. Now that he had Moore on his own it would be simple to use his heat vision to melt the offensive weapon. Using just the right temperature to make Byron drop the blade, he honed in on the hilt. Startled, his adversary stumbled, and the weapon fell from his grasp onto the grimy floorboards. Incensed, Moore resumed his charge and barreled into Kent; both men crashing into the wall so hard the whole room rocked with a tiny tremor. 

"Dammit, fight me Kent!" The aggressor dug his fingers deeply into Clark's throat, and the cop was surprised at just how strong he had become. His power however was still no match for Clark. 

With one tap of his hand, Clark sent Moore sprawling across the sordid chamber, leaving miniature dust flurries in his wake. He rolled with the blow, like some martial arts master and reacquainted himself with his sword. The hilt still dissipated great heat, and as his fingers wrapped around it they began to blister. Byron never noticed, instead he made one last kamikaze run, knowing reinforcements had at last arrived... 

The sudden footfalls came to a stop outside the now accessible mirror door and after seconds Lois flew in, gun drawn. She was swiftly followed by Brett Falmer and a handful of uniform cops. Now Clark would have to be much more restrained, or let them see his true self. 

"Put the weapon down now!" Lois screamed the order, keeping her barrel pointed firmly on her target. "I said now!" Falmer had his thirty-eight's sights trained in much the same way. 

Byron carried on as if he had never heard them. Perhaps the sane part of him had, because he knew what the outcome of disobeying the order would be. 

"No!" Clark could see what was happening in a kind of time warp, and felt powerless to stop it. "Don't shoot!" Without Moore they had no concrete proof who had been behind the killings. 

Byron continued undaunted, and this time there would be no respite. As his blade almost reached Kent, a single shot rang out across the apartment, sending Byron sprawling in a fine spray of his own blood. Falmer watched as his victim tumbled to the ground, then approached with his weapon still at the ready. When it became apparent Moore would be no more trouble, he turned to the uniforms and began to bark out essential orders. 

Clark ignored the rules, ignored the protocols and kneeled, cradling the dying man's head in his arms. "Why Byron? It needn't have come to this..." 

The kid killer's glazing eyes looked up at the man he had once considered a friend. "I had to die, and so did they, you'll understand..." He paused, wheezing as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. "The moving finger writes; and having writ moves on: nor all your piety nor wit shall lure it back...I cannot change what I have done. My time has come to an end. Watch over Lana for me..." 

Despite all he had done Clark looked down on the mortally wounded man with pity. Moore couldn't help what he had become, but perhaps Clark could stop it ever happening again. "You have to give me a name Byron, who wanted these kids killed and why?" 

Moore grinned as he drew his last few breaths, each effort draining more from him. His eyelids fluttered closed, and for a moment Kent thought it was too late. Then his lips pursed and he rasped out one final poetic lament. "Lu...t...hor..."   
  
  



	5. Memento Mori Part 5

Thank you folks, for your kind words :) The next part is a little longer, as I'm away this weekend, and I thought I owed you all a bigger slice!   
  
  
Byron's head slumped, and as Clark checked with his x-ray vision he saw the murderer's heart grow still. Falmer's aim had been perfect as always. "Couldn't you have winged him Brett?" Clark looked up to see his ex-partner standing over his kill with a smile on his face. 

Falmer shrugged, "I figure I did society a service removing that scum. He was a kid killer for pity's sake! Oh, and don't thank me for saving your ass..." The offended detective waved a hand in contempt then moved away, not wanting to argue with someone he usually felt highly of. 

Lois watched him go, then moved in to give Clark a piece of her own mind. "He has a point you know?" She offered as Kent finally stood away from the body. "I mean if he hadn't fired, Moore would have had you...you still hadn't drawn your gun. What is it with you?" 

"We needed Moore's testimony to get Luthor. A dying killer's last word, only heard by one cop just isn't enough evidence. Everything else we have is purely circumstantial..." 

"He named Luthor?" Lois appeared surprised, "but we still don't know why your old friend Lex wants these kids killed..." 

At last Lois was seeing Clark's point of view, although even if they had all the evidence required, he still wouldn't have wanted Moore dead. Death was something Clark believed only nature itself should be allowed to control. 

Saddened, he looked over to where Lana was gently being untied. Tears streamed down her petite features; bringing home the true horrors she had been through. Hadn't life already put her through enough with her parents, without this? 

"Just give me a minute...?" Clark gestured towards Lana and Lois nodded, understanding that he was the best to deal with the distraught widow. 

As he neared, Lana instinctively glanced up. "Clark? I knew you were in the police but..." More tears came in abundance, and this time Lana didn't even try to hold them back. 

Clark hugged her, letting her feel safe in his arms for a moment despite his colleagues' presence. Comforting one another was something they had always done in times of sorrow, and no matter what, Clark wouldn't deny her that now. 

When the sobbing at last abated Clark pulled tenderly from her fearful grip. "You're safe now. I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you..." The compassion in his eyes told her his words were never more sincere. "I want you to get checked out by the medics, and I'll be back. I just have to go check on the kid. Okay?" 

For a brief moment her tiny hands grabbed back at him, not wanting to ever be alone again. Then, when she saw the sallow ten year old rocking back and forth a short distance away, she capitulated. She may be alone in the world now, but so was this poor kid, and right now he looked almost ready to collapse. 

"I'll be fine..." Unconvincingly she began wiping her reddening face with a hanky Clark offered. "Go help him...it's what you do best." She smiled, and the detective returned it with the 'farm boy' grin, that few in Metropolis had ever seen. 

Kent turned then, breaking Lana's gaze to approach the kid. Daryl still sat where he had been untied, a medic trying in vain to gain his cooperation. He wouldn't speak, and his frail arms jerked away every time someone tried to touch him. As Clark watched him he was abruptly reminded of Ryan. The youth's short dark hair, wiry frame, and look of both despondency and yet knowledge was an uncanny similarity. 

"Hey Daryl..." Clark turned on the soft Kent charm. He didn't know why, but he always had some uncanny ability to soothe those in need, "mind if I talk to you? I can get this guy to stop bugging you..." The cop nodded for the E.M.T. to back off, and guessing his motive the medic complied. 

Daryl glanced up, his dark eyes looking like deep inexplicable pits in the gloomy light. "I have no family now...just like you and Lana..." A lock of the kid's disheveled hair fell across his eye and he flicked it back, wincing at the pain it caused in his neck. 

Clark noted the twinge, but was more surprised by what had been said. "I have a family. I even have a sister your age?" 

Daryl frowned. "I know, but they're not you're real family. That's why you can do things..." He sighed, sitting further back on the stool as a pounding in his head began to turn into a crescendo of sound. 

Clark gaped at the kid, hoping no one nearby had overheard their conversation. It was no secret he was adopted, but how did Daryl know more? The comparison with Ryan came back to mind with an amazing clarity. Had the Luthors tried to recreate Ryan's abilities somehow? Lex had known too much about him, had even had him stay at the mansion... 

"Can you read my mind? See the things I'm thinking?" 

Daryl exhaled, biting his lip as if he had let some deep, dark secret into the light. "Nope, I can't read minds...but I see things..." A thin trickle of blood appeared under the kid's nose and he wiped it away without even pausing. More of the essential red liquid soon followed, dribbling down his chin like some minute waterfall. "He won't give in you know. Not until I'm dead too..." 

Alarmed at the nosebleed, Clark leaned till he was level with Daryl's head. "Listen, we need to get you checked out for that..." 

Daryl shook his head, causing more throbbing. "No time...He'll go to any lengths. Even you must be careful. No one is safe..." 

"When you say 'he' you mean Luthor?" Clark was straight to the point now. There was always so much to lose, and never enough to gain on this case. Daryl nodded shyly. "Okay, well you don't need to worry about him. Whatever you've seen, I'm about to change. I want to help you Daryl...but I need to know how you see things?" Clark was cajoling now, not for the case, but because he didn't want this kid to end up like Ryan. 

Daryl tapped the side of his skull. "I have something in here, something the other kids had too. Normal people don't have it..." 

The words sounded harsh and cold to Clark, even though the kid had spoken them himself. All that he could think of was the hospital bed where he had last seen Ryan. An evil twist of nature had been one thing, but anger welled deep within to think that Lionel, and indeed Lex could have done this on purpose. 

"How are you two doing?" Lois looked at the wane kid before her and handed over a piece of tissue for his nose. "You look like you've been prizefighting!" Her jovial attitude brought a smile to his face, and he wiped away the drying blood to reveal another side to his personality. 

"I was just trying to convince him to let a medic look him over, but he's as stubborn as you..." Clark looked at his partner and winked, letting her know he really thought the kid needed coaxing to a hospital, and this was his way of doing it. 

Daryl however was one step ahead. He sighed like a forty year old, then crossed his arms in despair. "It's okay Clark, no need to hide things. I already know Lois will convince me to see an old friend of her dad's at the hospital..." 

Lois gawked, amazed that the kid had some kind of sixth sense as to what she was thinking. "How did you...?" 

Clark couldn't help but smile at her astonishment. Daryl was a smart and very special kid, now he only hoped and prayed that in the ten years since Ryan, modern medicine would have developed enough to save him. "Seeing as you know where we are going, let's hop to it..."   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
Metropolis Memorial Hospital.  
Two Hours Later...   
  
One phone call to Lane's father was all it has taken to surpass a very brusque secretary, and a large waiting room with several irate patients. Dr Mark Porter was said to be the very best in his field, and if Clark's suspicions were correct, only the best would do. If nothing else, Lane had come through on this one in a way he never could have. Strength and abilities were not, and never would be the answer to everything. 

She smiled at him as they waited in Porter's office. The doctor and his patient had been gone some time now, working on a long and tiresome batch of tests. "You really like that kid, don't you?" 

"He reminds me of someone I lost...I don't want to lose him too." Clark squirmed at the very suggestion, and suddenly realized that he hated the scent of these places. The faint antiseptic smell that invaded his nostrils always brought back bad memories. 

Lane understood. She had noted the expression when Clark had seen the kid's nosebleed, and now bringing him here to a top neurosurgeon just confirmed what he was thinking. There was more now though, because finally the case was beginning to fit together. "Do you think the kids had something in their heads, a tumor or chip maybe that Luthor wanted to hide?" 

"I think ten years ago the Luthors took their experiments a little too far, and now it's come back to haunt them. Once these kids started showing their gifts, they had to be neutralized..." Clark's tone grew angry and he began pacing Porter's expensively carpeted floor with a vengeance. "Surely there was another way..." 

The well-oiled door clicked open behind them and Porter's burly redheaded secretary poked her head in. "The doctor would like a word now..." 

She beckoned them into a side exam room, where Daryl was sat quietly waiting in a hospital gown. He looked up excitedly as they entered, and Clark felt a sudden pang of guilt for leaving him alone at such a traumatic time. _The kid has no one now..._

"You do realize I could get into a lot of trouble for taking a look at young Mr. Weiss here?" Porter looked disapprovingly over his thin rimmed glasses at Lois. "Shouldn't you at least be finding any next of kin?" Lois pulled a face at the fifty-six year old surgeon and he huffed, raising a brow at Clark. "I pity you son, having to work with Lois here. I've known her since she was a baby, and she always gets what she wants." 

Clark was starting to realize just the same thing, for now though his concern lay with the kid watching him with those ever so dark, soulful eyes. "Can you help us then? I mean with Daryl...?" The cop didn't want to voice his thoughts in case there was bad news, but Porter smiled, his tapering moustache curling at the edges with pleasure. 

"Daryl's going to be just fine," he unconsciously pulled his glasses down to peer over them. "Do you want to pop back in there with my assistants and get yourself cleaned up? I'm sure we can find you something to wear with a little less blood on. I just need a word with the detectives here." 

The ten year old obeyed the surgeon without question. It was as if he had some precognitive knowledge of who he could, and could not trust. Pausing at the door, he turned and briefly waved at Clark, silently asking not to be left for too long. Kent nodded back, and once the door was closed turned back to Porter. 

"How bad is it? Can you do anything?" 

Porter ambled to a nearby wall mounted screen and flicked it on. One side showed x-rays, the other several much more complicated scans of his young patient's brain. "I don't want to bore you with my overzealous medical details, but our young friend appears to have a small growth..." The surgeon pointed at the odd shape that seemed not to belong on any of the pictures. 

Clark gulped. It was what he had feared all along. Maybe if he'd had the nerve to use his own x-ray vision sooner he would have already known, but somehow it just hadn't seemed right. Perhaps he had thought if he didn't see it, it wouldn't exist, but here it was anyway, staring back from the scans like some malignant extension of Luthor's evilness. 

"Is it benign?" Lois looked at Porter hopefully, but he shook his head and both detectives' hearts sank together. 

Porter huffed again at their dour expressions. "Bah! You cops are always so easy to think the worst. It isn't benign or malignant, because it isn't a tumor..." He looked almost smug as he continued his oratory. "Daryl has an extra mass on his parietal lobe...but every test I take comes back the same. The growth appears to be nothing more than extra brain tissue. Not that I'm saying that isn't strange in itself, because it is..." 

Clark waved a hand, butting into the lecture with both relief and disbelief. "If it can't hurt him, why the nosebleed and headaches? I saw them myself..." 

"Did you ask the boy about that?" Porter nodded wisely before they even replied, knowing they hadn't. "Your villain whacked him on the back of the head with a sword hilt. It's a wonder he stayed conscious...I would recommend you get him somewhere quiet to rest up, he has a slight concussion." 

"But the thing in his head can't hurt him?" Clark had to ask again, to know that this kid was going to live. 

Porter took a seat at his desk, growing tired of repeating things to this cop as if he were lecturing a first year med student. "I've never seen anything like it, but I see no reason for it to cause him any problems. In the very rare textbook cases I've read on this kind of thing, there has even been some talk of E.S.P. like abilities..." 

Clark and Lois glanced at one another, suddenly wanting to exit the stuffy little room, even though it was air conditioned. Porter was a good man, but could he be trusted with Daryl's newly found secret? No one doubted his integrity, but his life could be put in danger should he know any more at this stage. 

Lois made the first and decisive move. "I know you put yourself on a limb to help me out Mark, and I can't thank you enough, but we really should get the kid to a safe house." 

The doctor understood, he had grandchildren of his own, and since the 'Rainman' case hit the news they were never far from his thoughts. "Just be careful Lois, Detective Kent." He tipped his head acknowledging the couple, and as they reached the door to where Daryl awaited he shouted back. "Oh, and Lois, tell your dad I still don't see his daughter as a cop..." 

As the pair hurried to retrieve one very special kid, they heard the chuckling of a very fun loving and punctilious doctor...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
Chloe Sullivan's Apartment.  
A Few Hours Later ...   
  
Clark peeled back his jacket and unhooked his keys from his belt. With just the feel of the metal, he sensed which was the correct one for Chloe's door and popped it in the lock. Lana watched with a smile. 

"You have a set of keys to Chloe's place?" 

Before the young cop could respond Pete Ross, who until now had remained silent in all his officialdom decided it was time to play. He leaned over mysteriously and whispered in Lana's ear as if it were some state secret. "Don't you know cops have a key to any lock?" 

Lana had heard that, but somehow she doubted it was relevant in this case. She knew Chloe had been with Clark for some time now, and was surprised the two hadn't gotten engaged yet. "I think Clark is too much of a gentleman to ever go in a girl's home without permission." She gazed back at Pete as they entered. He looked so different in his formal attire. Somehow suits just didn't seem to fit his personality. "And besides Pete, Chloe did say I could stay here a few days..." 

Pete winked at Clark. "Yeah well I think you're crazy rooming with the press after all this! I mean you know how Chloe can be if there's a story..." 

"If Chloe were here you'd feel the weight of her purse on your head, Mayor or not for that comment." Clark offered Lana a chair then heard a sharp acidic voice from the kitchen and had to laugh. 

"Pete Ross watch what you say in my home!" Chloe poked her head around the door. "You don't think I could stay at work when the big story was waiting for me back here do you?" 

In truth Clark had expected Chloe here, and for once it wasn't just for the story. They had gone through some bad patches back in Smallville, but in the end all four had still come out as friends. Chloe wouldn't desert those friends now. Of the original Smallville group, only Lex was missing... 

"So you guys want coffee?" The intrepid reporter asked the question, but was already headed from the kitchen with a tray. It held four steaming mugs of Chloe's finest brew. 

Lana took a mug gratefully and cradled it in her hand. She looked silently around the spacious and well organized room with just a little jealousy. Chloe had everything, and once again she had nothing. Byron had been her whole world, and now that world had collapsed again. She stifled the urge to cry. She needed to stay strong in front of everyone; because there was a favor she wanted to ask. 

Pete noticed the awkward silence first, and gently put an arm around her. He had tried to put on a jovial front for everyone's sake, as he always did, but if Lana needed reassuring he could do that too. "Are you alright?" 

Lana nodded, sipping her drink before carefully wording her next sentence. "Daryl and I are all alone now, and well I kind of took a liking to the little guy. Do you think when all this mess is over, you could swing it so I got temporary custody of him Pete? I mean you know he'd be safe?" 

Taken aback the Mayor, Chloe, and even Clark stared in silence. There was nothing wrong with the idea, but it was so unlike the old Lana to be so positive and resolute. Pete shrugged. "I can look into it, but even I don't have much pull in that department..." 

"And until we catch Luthor, Daryl has to stay in our custody." Clark added. 

The mention of Lex brought the ace journalist back out in Chloe and she jumped onto Clark's knees with a thud. Wrapping her arms around his neck she gave him her best doe eyed expression. "Speaking of Luthor...do you have anything to wet my reporter's appetite on this case?" 

Clark looked to the ceiling in exasperation and wished he had offered Lana to stay at his place instead. Chloe would interrogate everyone she deemed necessary to get this scoop. "You know I can't give you details of an ongoing investigation Chloe!" 

Chloe peeled herself from his lap and bounced down on her soft pink sofa, right between Lana and Pete. "Ha! I don't need your help, I have my own source at the police department. I never could get anything from your notes, you don't make any till it's too late, whereas your new partner..." 

Clark scowled, knowing somehow Chloe had a line on Lois's laptop and all that lay within. He chose not to ask anymore questions on the subject for fear of what answers he would get. "So, continue with your theory..." 

Apparently they think the Luthors were experimenting with genetic engineering ten years ago, and 'altered' certain I.V.F. kids D.N.A. Without the clinics or parents consent I might add..." She glanced around to see if anyone wanted to interject, then continued. "Of course, now the kids began to all act strangely and Lex wanted to hide his, and dear dead dad's indiscretions..." 

Lana looked horrified at the suggestions. "I just don't see Lex having kids beheaded over some long forgotten experiment." 

Chloe frowned, now this was the Lana she knew, so naive and trustworthy. "Lana, from what I can see, Lex was the one blackmailing Byron. The preliminary police report says he was never cured. All Luthorcorp ever gave him was a treatment, and that could easily have been withheld to coerce him into those murders..." 

"Chloe!" Clark was both annoyed and upset at how insensitive she could be some times. Lana had just lost her husband, and was getting the gory details of his hidden past whether she wanted them or not. He shot his overly enthusiastic girlfriend a warning glance. 

The reporter finally took the hint and put a hand to her mouth, gently biting her lip. "Sorry Lana. I guess I just wasn't thinking." 

Lana nodded. "It's alright. At least I know Byron had a reason behind what he did now..." 

"And I won't let his death be in vain." Clark put a hand to his old friend's shoulder affectionately, "I won't stop till I put Luthor behind bars for this. Lois is arranging Daryl's safe house, and the cover roster, then we're going to pay Lex a little visit." 

Pete looked knowingly and fearfully at Clark. "Lord help Luthor if he doesn't come up with the right answers..."   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
Senator Lex Luthor's Office.   
  
Lois looked around the area that was occupied by Lex's secretary and sighed. The office space it took up could hold at least half their homicide department. It was just one of the things that had hit her as soon as she had entered this over lavish building. Another had been the huge and extensive collection of oil paintings that adorned the walls. She was no expert, but so far she had spotted at least two Turner's and a Renoir. 

"Impressive isn't it?" Clark let his eyes roam the walls and furniture. "You'll probably find Lex is just as imposing." 

"You still have respect for this guy, don't you?" Lane looked from the secretary's empty post and wished she would hasten her return, "I mean after all you know about him..." 

Clark pursed his lips, not really paying attention to their conversation because he was busy scanning Luthor's office. "I guess you could call it a grudging respect at most." 

Lois nodded knowingly and the door finally opened. Luthor's blonde and very attractive 'personal assistant' appeared and ushered them in. "Mr. Luthor will see you now..." Her hand gestured for them to enter and the pair obliged. 

Inside Clark found the quarters even more immoderate than he would have expected. The room was functional, but also told a tale of its owner's prolific wealth. Hidden from all but his gaze were secret compartments in the abundance of cabinets and shelving. One contained a tiny refrigerator, holding nothing but bottles of Tynant water, another held a vast bar. Everything was typical of the Lex he used to know, everything save the fact that he now shared the room with a murderer. 

"It's good to see you again Clark, although I take it you're here in some official capacity?" Lex sat behind his contemporary styled desk, hands interlocked in thought. He swiveled slightly on his light framed chair, his eyes narrowing to analyze his visitors, "and you must be the detective Lane I've been hearing so much about..." 

"I wish I could say it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Luthor, but..." Lois watched the millionaire for a reaction, the slightest flinch or quirk to show his guilt, but he simply smiled effortlessly back. 

At her side, Kent was doing much the same, albeit in a somewhat more technical manner. As soon as they had entered, Clark had tuned out his normal senses and let his extra abilities take hold. His sense of smell had been heightened just enough to allow his nasal passages to perceive any change in Lex's demeanor. If they pressurized him, and he began to perspire even the slightest, Clark would know. He could see Lex's heart too, pounding blood around the Senator's body in never ending cycles. Should their queries upset him one bit, it would be reflected in his heart rate and blood pressure. The only question now was how calm could Luthor be when put on the spot? 

"But?" Lex rose from his seat and offered Lane his hand anyway. "You should never pre judge anyone. I once thought Clark here held that statement close to his heart..." Lex shrugged, "even I can be wrong once..." 

"Byron Moore implicated you in the Rainman killings Lex, and we have other evidence." Clark pulled out a seat set aside for visitors after offering one to Lois. He stared at the man who he had almost called a brother and felt a sadness in his soul. How can life change people so much...why? As he stared he kept a watchful eye on Luthor's vitals, but nothing changed. 

It wasn't surprising, with all the martial arts techniques Lex knew, there was always the chance he could have ultimate control over his own autonomic functions, just like some people could fool a lie detector test. Either way, neither Clark nor Lois would learn anything from his reactions, or lack of them. 

"I take it by other evidence, you mean the severed heads? They've already been taken to the coroner for examination, so I hear. I'm sure he'll find them intriguing, but there is no connection to me, I assure you." Lex's smug face ventured into a half smile, then he rose from his seat and opened the concealed cooler. "Anyone for a Tynant?" 

Both detectives shook their heads. In this game Lex was, and always would be the winner. Lionel had taught him the art of manipulating even the most innocent of conversations, and now it was like a game of chess to him every time he spoke. 

Clark inhaled. "You know about the heads because you ordered it, didn't you? How did you change from the man I knew Lex?" There was real anguish in the words as Clark stood to leave, and in that moment Lois knew it had taken a lot to come here and face his nemesis. She looked between the two men, then fleetingly back to Lex. It was strange, but somehow she sensed more hurt from him than she did even from Clark. 

"Who says I was the one who changed Clark?" Lex mouthed the almost inaudible answer, then when the two detectives had safely exited his office he re-seated himself, gulping the water as he suddenly found his mouth very dry. 

A headache began to seep its way across the back of his brain, not pounding, just a ceaseless dull pain. Impulsively he ran a hand over the throbbing, then reached out for the phone. His hand hovered indecisively over the receiver, then with one quick jerk he tugged it to his ear and pressed on the pre programmed number. 

"Hello, Richard..." He paused, thinking of the right words, even though this was supposedly a secure line. "Kent knows too much, he's getting too close for comfort. I want someone on him as of now." Lex grew silent again as a worrying thought increased the tiny pulses of agony in his head. "Wait...belay that order..." Without bothering to give an explanation, Luthor slammed the phone back down so hard he almost smashed the cradle. 

Clark was no ordinary cop, and he had once been a friend, that at least meant he deserved Lex's very personal attention...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
Outside The Lane Residence.  
Forty-Five Minutes Later...    
  
  
Clark let the Ford slide effortlessly into the Lane driveway and turned off the ignition. It had been a long day, and he was finally dropping Lois off at her dad's before going to check on Daryl. 

The Lane residence looked just as Clark imagined it would; clean, crisp, and with an air of orderliness that became the home of a retired physician. He could tell a lot about Lois from just seeing her parents' house, and he was sure if she ever visited Smallville she might think the same of his. 

"Nice home," He commented, exiting the car to escort her to the door. "I wish I got over to my parents more often." 

Lois shook her head, "Well my mom and dad aren't home either, they're visiting relatives in Utah. I'm just the house sitter!" 

Clark smiled and turned to duck back behind the wheel, but his acute sense of smell picked up a very familiar odor on the light night breeze. The distinctive aroma of gun oil blew in from across the road, letting the detective know that it belonged to neither his, nor Lois's weapon. Instinctively he whirled around; intent on scanning the area just in case this was something more than a stray scent. 

"Clark? What is it?" Lois sensed his unease, but there was no way for her to perceive the dangers he did. 

"I just thought I saw something..." Slowly he began searching the darkened gardens that could hold a mystery assailant. He stopped dead when this time his ears did the detecting. From somewhere, a metallic click resounded as a .50 caliber round entered the chamber of a brand new Desert Eagle. Clark's vision had zeroed in on the sound in a millisecond, but that too was all it had taken to pull the trigger. 

Kent saw the first projectile with amazing clarity, the tip of the round barreling towards him in perfect freeze frame simplicity. The thought that he was impervious to it spurred him to protect those who were not, and he dived at Lois, intending to push her behind the car and out of harms way. The plan was flawless, except for one fact he had gravely miscalculated... 

As Lois hit the coarse gravel driveway with a grunt, Clark felt the first impact on his chest. It was not painless as he had expected it to be, in fact as he fell forward with its burning momentum he found his whole body wanted to spasm and contort. In a second he knew that this was no ordinary bullet, no ordinary gunman, and that someone high up knew his secret. Another shot rang out and he felt that hit home too, this time tearing through his left arm and exiting with an intense rush of pain. 

Lois rolled over just as her partner took the second bullet. Blood sprayed across her face, and shocked she took a moment to react. As he slumped down beside the Ford more bullets rained from the concealed gunman, several ripping elongated gashes in the vehicle that was their only shielding. Lois wrenched out her own weapon and edged forward, noting the damage to the car as she crawled closer to Clark. _If those slugs have done that to metal..._

"Clark, can you hear me?" 

A muffled response and a slight movement told her that he could, and that he was still alive. Now she had to make sure they had enough cover and call for backup. Bobbing her head up in a risky maneuver, she swung her weapon in an arc towards the source of the gunfire. No one fired back at her. The night remained deathly silent until neighbors began to poke their heads out in morbid curiosity. 

Lois ignored them, hoping they had already had the presence of mind to call for help. "Clark?" She kneeled beside him and ripped open his shirt to look at the wound. The slug had torn into his chest, just as she had suspected, leaving an angry red puncture and lots of blood. Pressing over it with one hand she put down her gun and began to tug at the Ford's door, intent on calling in just in case the neighbors hadn't. _Oh God Dad, why aren't you home when I need you..._

Lane looked down and saw Clark fearfully watching her. "Just hang on; I'm calling for help..." Blood was trickling down the driveway now, but she ignored it and grabbed the in-car mike. 

"No!" Clark's eyes bored into her with a pleading that put terror in her soul. "No...please call my parents...pare...nts..." He appeared to struggle to take every breath. "No doctors..." 

_Oh God he must be in shock, I'm losing him!_ For once in her life Lois wished she had followed her father's footsteps in medicine. Groping in panic she keyed the mike just as a vehicle's headlights rounded into the grove. The flash of sudden brilliance momentarily blinded her and she paused. Shielding her eyes, she looked again with new concern etched on her face. 

The jet black sports car was headed straight for them, it unique shape shuddering as its driver hit the brakes at the very last second. Its gull-wing door hissed hydraulically as it opened skyward, and a figure dressed all in black stepped into the clearing. They had only met the once, but even in the shadows Lois knew this was Lex Luthor...   
  
To Be Continued..   
  



	6. Memento Mori Part 6

Thanks again to all my reviewers and readers. I hope I'm not driving you too crazy! :)   
  
  
Frantic to save her partner she re-keyed the mike. "Henry-Victor seven requesting a 10-50...I repeat I have an officer down, requesting..." 

"I wouldn't advise finishing that call in..." Luthor stepped forward, letting his intense gaze wash over the scene. Satisfied he was in control, he bent low over the fallen cop. Clark writhed from the kryptonite bullet burning within him, but managed to stare Lex right back in the face. "Make that call and you're signing Clark's death warrant..." 

Lois ignored him and bravely dived back at her weapon, but Lex was far faster and a 45 of his own magically appeared. His grip was firm and unwavering. Not wasting time on words, he aimed and took out the Ford's radio unit with just one precise shot. The hiss and electrical sparks told him that he had accomplished his task, and he turned, his eyes narrowing to points as he scrutinized Lane. Then unexpectedly, he re-pocketed the gun and leaned forward over Clark. 

"I didn't want it to come to this, forgive me..." Real sorrow filled the millionaire's countenance, then as Clark tried to gurgle a response Luthor grabbed his uninjured arm and tossed him over his shoulder. Blood dripped onto the roadway as Lois stood open mouthed. 

"Hey!" Lane took her weapon and tried again to stop him, but Lex still bravely chose to ignore her. 

Deftly he placed Clark on the rear seat of his one off vehicle. "If you're not going to shoot me, either get in, or shut up!" 

From the look on Luthor's face Lane knew this was a once only offer, and determined to take her chances. Whatever was going on here, all she knew was Clark was bleeding from what her dad called a 'sucking' chest wound, if he didn't get help soon Manning would be making that call to his parents after all. "You better tell me you're headed to Metropolis Memorial..." She hopped in the back with her fallen chum, then placed the barrel of her gun to Luthor's neck. "I don't know what your game is shooting Clark, then trying the hero thing...but it won't work...you're going down." 

Lex disregarded her remarks, and the weapon that was being pushed very close to his cranium. "I don't play games Miss Lane." He rammed down the gas pedal, then as the car's engine hit maximum revs he dipped the clutch and forced it into second. "I don't have the luxury of time to explain either. Just keep him conscious..." Skillfully he slowed just enough to guide the perfectly designed Interceptor through a chicane like section of road, concentrating to keep up as much speed as possible. Once out of the tight turns he poured on more gas till the car could give no more. 

Lois stole a glance to see Clark clutching at the hole in his chest, as dark red blood poured through onto his fingers, and was lost on the lush upholstery below. He looked at her pale and dazed, then back to the very bald head in the driving seat. 

Confusion played across his features as he tried to comprehend what had happened. "Get bullet out...call parents..." He coughed a little, not from the wound, but from the evil green projectile within. "Dad, mom, they ...can explain..." 

Lex took his eyes from the blurring road ahead and turned. "What's he saying?" 

"He's delirious! Dammit he's dying!" Lane thrust her gun harder till it bit into Lex's neck, "And this isn't the way to the hospital..."   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
A Secure Lab Facility,  
Somewhere in Metropolis...    
  
The shapely sports car finally slowed as a vast state-of-the-art building loomed ahead, its silver gray walls reflecting the stark moonlight. Lex checked his mirrors, whilst flipping the cell phone he had been urgently using closed with just one hand. Lane watched him, wanting to pull the trigger of her weapon and get her partner to a hospital, but she just didn't have the nerve and he knew it. Instead she looked on in awe as he drew into a tight parking spot hidden from view. The board beside it read a simple message: Directors only. Reserved for H Tullor. Had it not been such a serious situation she would have laughed at the obvious joke, as it was she scowled even harder at Lex. 

"Just what do you think you're doing?" 

"If you take him to the hospital, your shooter will be waiting to finish the job. Best case scenario, and he isn't there, Clark becomes someone's lab rat instead." Luthor tugged back his seat and began to drag the young cop back over his shoulder. Clark groaned, still tenuously holding onto consciousness as his body was hauled to some unknown destination. 

Lois looked longingly at the car keys, still dangling in the ignition. They beckoned her, and she was tempted to jump forward and steal the car. _Reinforcements could be here within minutes, but what about Clark?_ Even now as Luthor carried him she could see his rapid, shallow breaths. No, she couldn't leave him. 

Luthor was entering the building now, and as Lois raced to catch up she noted the company name emblazoned on a small but functional sign. 

"Star Labs? You brought us all the way out here to a lab, not a hospital? Boy Luthor, you've got some nerve!" The abrupt realization that her partner was about to die finally hit a raw nerve, and she fired her weapon skyward in a fit of temper, "another move and you get the next slug..." 

Lex stifled the urge to drop his heavy burden and teach this uneducated cop a lesson. He whirled, about to give her a round of verbal tutoring, when Clark stirred from his stupor. "Lois...he's right...please..." 

Lane studied the injured cop, unsure where her priorities should lie. If she ignored his wishes and anything happened she would be responsible, but why did he trust a murderer now? 

Noting her pause, Luthor returned to the task at hand and placed his thumb on a tiny scanning device. It determined he had the authority to access this part of the plant in less than a second. "Voila..." Without looking back he scurried inside and the passage lights illuminated automatically. As the trio moved along their way, the lights dimmed, then switched back off behind them. 

Tiny drops of blood dripped onto the immaculate floor, making minute splashes as Clark watched helpless from his inverted position. _Will they mop that up, or analyze it..._

More lights flicked on, and this time they stayed that way as Lex all-but kicked open the office door before him, then carefully laid Clark on his own personal couch. He had brought it back from a business trip to Germany, thinking it would be ideal to relax on after a hard day in the city. Now it was ironic that he should use it to comfort his dying friend. 

Clark moaned again softly as his wounded body hit the soft leather, then he gazed up at the man before him, the man who was acting like a savior. Could he trust again as he once had? The bond was still there, he could feel it, sense it, but was he merely wishful thinking before his own death? As every minute passed he could feel the kryptonite drawing him closer to the edge, closer to oblivion. There was no way he could convince Lois to help, of that he was sure, but if Lex was half the man he once had been... 

He reached out a shaking blood covered hand. "If you didn't do this...prove it...dig it out..." His voice wavered, then the pleading hand dropped limply to the carpeted floor. 

Lois could take no more and rushed over, tossing her weapon on the nearby desk in frustration, she gently reached down and felt at his neck. "He's bleeding to death. You have the resources to get a Lifeflight out here. It's his only chance now...please!" The timbre of her voice raised in an almost beseeching cry. 

Lex licked his lips, then overlooking her pleas grabbed the nearby phone, desperate for a reply. He began to perspire heavily as the ring tone seemed to take forever to chime in his ear. "Klein! Where the hell are you? I'm running out of time...what do I do?" The receiver shook in his hand. 

The other man's words appeared to offer no consolation, and Lois suspected she was seeing Luthor unnerved for the first time in his whole life. Panicking, she tore a strip of material from Clark's shirt and wrapped it tightly around his still bleeding arm, then applied more pressure to the oozing hole in his chest. As she watched Luthor began rummaging in his desk drawer, searching desperately for something. He mumbled to the man on the line, then retrieved the item, his appearance turning almost as pallid as her partner's...   
  
  



	7. Memento Mori Part 7

Once Again Thank You everyone for reading. :) Hopefully this chapter will answer some of your questions!   
  
  
Clark groaned under the pressure Lois was applying, and she looked down to see his eyes following Lex's movements. "Don't worry I'll get you out of here." She tried to sound reassuring, but at her words Kent seemed to get more agitated. 

"I'd rather stay here...no hospitals." He tried to push his way up to a sitting position, but soon found he was far too weak. 

"Just stay still, don't try to talk." Lois gazed back to Lex. He had abruptly ended the phone conversation and was rushing over with the thing he had been searching for. When Lane spotted just what he had found she gaped. "You're not coming anywhere near with that!" Saying no more she dived for her weapon back, but Luthor was far closer and grabbed it. 

"You don't understand. I have to do this...move out of my way." Luthor appeared jumpy, and to Lois it added to his insanity and guilt. 

Having no weapon Lane backed away slightly, her bloodied hands clenching in rage as she watched Luthor lean over Clark. If he had wanted to stab the cop he could have by now, but his obvious intention would still have the same effect; Clark would die. "You can't go digging around in his chest with that thing! He's lost too much blood already! Are you insane?" For a moment Lois forgot she was talking to the chief suspect in the Rainman case. "You touch him with that knife and he dies, I'll make sure you do too. Cop killers still face the death penalty in Kansas..." 

Luthor appeared to get a grip, his face calming as his hands stopped trembling. "I have no intention of letting my friend die thinking I'm a killer." He looked down, and through the pain Clark looked back. There was a fear in his eyes, and yet he still nodded to Luthor to carry on and dig out the bullet. 

No! My God, just what planet are you from?" 

Luthor squirmed. "You should be asking him that question..." 

Lois watched in horror as Lex did as he was requested, plunging the penknife deep in her partner before she had time to react. In an act of desperation she turned and ran, hoping to find a phone in one of the unlit offices and call for help. Not that it would do Clark any good now...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
Lois ran faster than she thought her legs could ever carry her, the passageways seeming far longer on her return journey. Up ahead she spotted what looked like an open office and ducked inside, thinking there would be an outside line. The phone sat temptingly on the table, and without hesitation she grabbed it, only to find no dial tone. Somehow Luthor's security system was blocking her. Angry that even now he could stop her, she slapped it back noisily in the cradle and then turned to make a dash back out the door. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to come with me ma'am..." 

Lois looked up to see a fresh-faced security guard looking at her apologetically, and by his side stood a much older man in an overcoat. His graying hair and somewhat odd appearance made her instantly think of Albert Einstein. 

"You don't understand...I'm a cop...my partner is dying back there. I need a line out!" She pleaded 

with both strangers, but the guard took a firm grip of her arm and gently tugged. 

Her words were not lost however, as they seemed to jog the elder man's memory. He nodded at the sentry, then scurried away as fast as his short legs would allow. Watching him go, Lois had the strange feeling that he was the one Luthor had been talking too on the phone. _Even if you've come to help you're too late now..._   
  
  
Klein used the back way into Luthor's office as he always did. He had worked here for years now, and had known Lex even longer. No one else was allowed in this way, but then no one else held the respect of Senator Luthor quite the way he did. Someone had once explained that perhaps it was his straightforward, innocent honesty that Lex appreciated. Klein suspected however, that it was more likely it was his approach to certain scientific projects, and his total loyalty in matters of secrecy. 

Hurriedly he pressed his thumbprint on the scanner provided, his hand trembling with concern, then entered Luthor's inner chamber. By the couch he could see his superior already leaning over the young man he had come to tend, and as he drew close he realized Lex had begun to try and remove the bullet. 

Amazingly the wounded man was still conscious, and as he spotted Klein's light blue lab coat began to struggle, trying desperately to pull away. The effort was futile and only aggravated his injury, bringing a fresh onrush of blood to his lips. Trying to disregard the look of terror on his patient's face, Klein leaned over, examining Lex's work. As he grasped the true extent of the damage his face grew grim and he began to panic. 

"Lex, this is far worse than I thought..." The doctor kept his voice low, hoping the young cop wouldn't hear, "I know he's different, but you can't just dig a bullet out that deep without surgical instruments, and with the nature of the bullet..." 

Even though his words were discouraging the doctor began to take charge, his greatest concern being that Clark's ribcage would hamper the proceedings, not to mention the amount of blood he had already lost. With the greatest of care he took Lex's makeshift scalpel, and although jittery attempted to remove the bullet from the cop's chest. More blood leaked from the entry wound and Klein paused, feeling for a pulse. The throb beneath his fingers was both fast and weak, and even with his patient's physiology the doctor feared he had arrived too late. _What if I can't get the slug out of his lung in time? What if his ribs are in the way? I have no way of spreading them..._

Clark didn't know the man who had entered Lex's office, but right now the one thing his mind did recognize was a lab coat and that could only mean one thing; this was a scientist. The thought sent sharp spikes of fear through his already dazed mind and he thought about running. _Run where, you're dying...what does it matter who he is?_ More terror spread across his dysfunctional cortex and he tried to rise. _Why can't I get up? Lex will use me for a guinea pig..._   
  
The scientist was taking over now, probing with the sharp blade even though he appeared a bundle of nerves. Clark watched until his eyes grew out of focus, but at least he felt no pain now. Gone was the acute discomfort, the agony that the kryptonite caused, gone was the pain from the bullet wounds. Now all that awaited was life or death, and all in the hands of this scientist. Perhaps if life meant spending his days here in some padded cell, being this man's project, then Clark would choose the easier option...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
Lex paced around his office as if he were waiting for a major stock report. He poured a scotch from the large selection at hand, but then found he had no appetite for alcohol. Instead he returned to his favorite Tynant water and found the taste much more satisfying. It had been a long day already, and as he turned to seat his weary body he found himself reflecting on its events. 

The past was a strange thing, creeping up on a person when they least expected it. Perhaps now was the time to reveal all to an old friend... provided he lived. Luthor swiveled his chair a little and let his gaze fall upon Clark Kent. The detective seemed to sense his attention and murmured in his half sleep. 

"Chloe?" 

Lex smiled at the affection in the frail voice. "Not quite Clark, just stay still. I'll get Dr Klein back in here." Luthor began to rise, but Clark's urgent tone made him pause before heading to the door. 

"I don't need a doctor." 

It was time to tell all. Grabbing a fresh bottle of water Lex crossed to the fallen cop's side and kneeled, his tone becoming soft and almost gentle. "You've already had the attention of the good Dr Klein. Lucky for you he made it through a gridlock just in time to help me out." Lex gazed momentarily at his deep lavender shirt. Dark blood stains spattered most of the front, and some of his right sleeve. 

Clark scrutinized the spectacle as Lex helped him sit up and handed him a glass of ice cold water to sip. "How long was I unconscious?" 

Lex let a sly smile creep across his already furtive expression. "Don't worry; it's been minutes, not hours." He backed away a little and tugged out a flattened emerald slug from his desk drawer, "although Klein says if we hadn't gotten this out when we did things could have been pretty bleak." 

A startled look akin to that of a scared rabbit flashed over Kent's face as he realized Lex knew far too much. "How did you know? I mean you didn't just take my word..." 

Lex took a seat on the couch and clasped his hands together. It was time to delve into the past, to explain the present. In a way it would be amusing to see Clark's reaction. "I've known who you are, and where you came from for over ten years Clark. Remember when Helen took your blood? Unbeknownst to you, and her I saw it. I had no way of knowing it was yours to begin with, but then after Walden things just seemed to add up." 

"But you never..." 

"No, I never told you what I knew, but I have always watched over you. You thought Pete got you through the police medical? Not even his efforts were quite all it took to falsify the necessary reports." 

Clark sat agog at the amazing revelations that were unfolding. He sipped more water, his throat dry and his mind throbbing. "Why? Why keep tabs on me? You know how I feel about your kind..." 

Lex's lip curled in a cunning smirk. "My kind? Don't believe all you read in the papers Clark, especially not if Miss Sullivan wrote it. Let's just say some people wanted my name blackened, even went to the lengths of framing me for my dear father's murder, although they couldn't make that one stick." Lex stood, and this time he found the need for the already poured scotch. 

Clark watched the millionaire saunter across for the beverage. "Why take all this slander if it's not true, and what about the Rainman killings? Moore named you, and then there is your sword..." 

Lex added ice from a bucket, ignoring the obvious accusations. "Don't get me wrong, I will sometimes bend the rules to get what I want. If I let people think the rumors about me are all true, they're much less likely to cause me problems in my little 'transactions'. As for Byron and the Rainman thing, well that goes much deeper..." 

"Deeper?" Clark began testing himself, trying to put pressure on his arms to gain leverage to stand, his body however still felt drained and he flopped back onto the couch, waiting for Luthor's reply. 

"Yes, much deeper. You see it is my sword that was used in the killings, that I will grant you. My dear brother Lucas couldn't make the murder of father stick on me, so he's trying again, and mopping up Luthorcorp's sordid mess in the process. Against popular belief, he has control of the company now, not me." Lex noted his friend's still weakened state and returned to his side, whirling the melting ice in his glass in exasperation. 

"Lucas? You expect me to think your brother arranged it all?" This time Clark lifted his tattered shirt and lightly prodded a blood covered dressing, when no immediate pain came he tugged it away to find only a small mark. "Why would Lucas want you out the way if he already has control?" He tried to stand again, and felt his knees begin to buckle. 

Lex noted it too. "I don't know all the answers yet, but we can discuss them tomorrow in full when you're feeling better...right now I think we should get Klein back in here..." 

The name Klein brought apprehension to Clark's weary mind every time Lex mentioned him, and fear crept in with it. He was the one in the lab coat; he's a scientist, not a doctor... "I can go home and rest, I don't need prodding." 

Lex carried on his journey regardless of his younger friend's protestations. When he reached the door he looked back briefly, concern returning to his face. "You almost died tonight Clark. Klein says the amount of time you were exposed, coupled with the massive blood loss means your cells need more time to regenerate. He thinks you should be back to full strength in a few hours, but he's checking a blood sample right now..." 

"My blood!" For an instant the cop's expression returned to that of an innocent, anxious farm boy, then he regained his composure and tried to act a little more unruffled. 

Lex had to grin. "Relax Clark, he's seen it all before. Klein is the man I showed it too after 'acquiring' it from Helen. He knows all about you, probably more than you do. If he hadn't been here tonight..." Luthor let his words trail as he vanished in the other room, then returned with the nervous doctor only moments later. 

The little man appeared even more edgy now he wasn't under pressure, but as Clark gazed at him he couldn't help but sense sincerity. Now as the scientist approached, the blue lab coat didn't seem so daunting after all, and his small bowtie made the detective want to grin. _He might be scientist, but he certainly isn't any Dr Hamilton, or I'd be strapped to a table right now._

"I doubt you'll remember me, but my name is Dr Klein." The doctor moved forward a little, taking his time not to alarm his reluctant patient. "Lex tells me you're still feeling somewhat fatigued?" 

The lab coat syndrome reared its ugly head again and Clark backed up slightly, wishing he could run. "I'm okay now..." 

Klein looked knowingly at his patient, and then took a seat by his side, surprising Clark with his flustered and yet determined approach. Still not trusting any scientific mind to the full the cop edged away, testing his returning strength with every new movement. Klein let the awkward moment pass then reached out a hand. 

"What say we try again?" He offered his palm, and for a second only silence greeted the room, then Clark grasped it warily and shook hands. "I just want to be sure you're alright?" 

The cop sighed. In all his life, Helen Bryce was the only doctor who had known anything of his secret. Now it was hard to accept that someone could know all and still be trusted. "I'm feeling better, just not so...strong." He dared to tell the truth, and was rewarded with an answer to his dilemma. 

"I just looked at your blood sample; the cells are regenerating quite rapidly now the source of the radiation has been removed. I was worried about any residual effects after your exposure, but they appear minimal, you should be back to normal in a few hours..." 

Klein let his words sink in then gently moved to check under the dressing he had applied. Finding it already gone, he was pleased to see that most of the scar tissue had vanished, leaving only a small raised blemish. 

Lex watched and was surprised the young detective had let his old friend so close without more of a tantrum. "He can't stand up doctor..." Knowing Clark would never admit quite so much the millionaire decided to confess all for him. 

Clark scowled, wondering whether he really could trust either of them, but made no attempt to pull away this time when Klein felt his pulse. The doctor nodded, satisfied with what he found, then became uncomfortable when he realized he didn't know who to explain to first. 

Ultimately he chose his patient over his very powerful boss. "You should be able to get up soon, your body is healing just fine, although I wouldn't suggest any of the heroics Lex informs me you get up to just yet." The scientist's brow knitted as he tried and failed to flash Clark a stern look. He was just far too good natured to be so stringent. 

As it happened Clark had no intention of doing anything for awhile anyway. He may have recovered enough to sit up, but he definitely wasn't ready for any kind of police work. The thought of work brought the sudden realization that he had no idea where his partner was, or what she was telling people. She had run when she saw Lex stick him with the knife, and if she had gotten through to the department they could be in big trouble real soon. 

He gulped. "Where is Lois? Did she get away?" 

Klein looked at his superior curiously. "Is she the young lady I saw earlier?" 

Lex nodded and moved in closer to his two friends. It was getting late and both should be in bed, especially Clark, but first they needed to sort one last problem. A devious look crossed his face, and then he gestured for them to follow him. "Lois didn't get very far," he turned a corridor and once again lights came on automatically. "One of my security staff picked her up and is keeping tabs on her in a secure store area." He smiled. "I'm afraid my penknife, albeit an expensive one, was no substitute for a precise medical instrument, and I was no replacement for a surgeon. Lois realized this and the rest is history..." 

Clark stopped in his tracks, becoming conscious of the fact that he had stood up and was walking unhindered, and that he had a whole bunch of explaining to do. Lois was no fool, and this time he could see no way of wriggling out of his predicament. She would tell the world his secret, even if Lex didn't, and then his life and career would be over. He looked down at the tiled floor, smelling the floral disinfectant the cleaner had used much earlier in the day, and noting his acute senses were slowly returning. _How will Lois react when she learns about them? What will she think of me when she knows I'm an alien?_

Lex and Klein paused, observing their guest's sudden reluctance to move on. It didn't take either of the men too long to fathom out what was going through his mind, but as always Lex came up with the answer to the conundrum first in his usual suave and sophisticated manner. Gently he took the still vulnerable cop's arm and led him into an office nearby. Klein followed, fascinated by the problem, and how Lex would solve it...   


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

  
  
  
Lois hated being in confined spaces, she hated the way the air seemed to be sucked from the room the very moment the door was closed, even though you couldn't really call this area small. Right now though she felt guilty, guilty because somewhere outside in Luthor's office her partner was probably dead or dying, and all she could think of was claustrophobia. The thought of being trapped brought on another bout of hysteria and she began to hammer on the doors, pounding until her fists became red with the effort. No one came, no one save the guard could even hear, and he was taking no notice. 

Trying to stay focused she glanced around, searching for clues that may one day incriminate Luthor. _Why bother? He's a cop killer. If I get out of here he'll go down for that... _

Footsteps echoed outside, disturbing her thoughts and bringing the welcome idea of escape. Frantically she searched among the packing crates, needing an impromptu weapon if the door should be opened. At the back, amongst a box of newly delivered items she finally found something heavy enough for the job. Trembling she pulled away the excess foam padding to reveal a brand new electron microscope. It was bulkier than she had imagined, and obviously had some special purpose, but for today it would be a weapon of the utmost potency. 

Shakily Lois positioned herself behind the electronic door, hearing the heavy footfalls coming ever closer. Deep down inside she hoped the visitor was Lex, not the young guard who had left her here, because she would enjoy nothing more than smashing down her improvised club on his very bald cranium. She swallowed hard, suddenly ashamed at her own ideas. _You're a cop, not a murderer..._

The door began to hydraulically move, sending shivers down her spine as the hiss of air caught her by surprise. Poised, she felt her muscles stiffen as a jolt of adrenalin kicked in, then a shadowy figure entered and she became the hunter. 

"Lois?" The soft masculine voice queried. 

Lane didn't stop to think, she didn't stop to even wonder. Instead she brought the cumbersome object down on her victim as best she could. The microscope slammed across his temple with tremendous force and he faltered; for a moment it appeared he might even fall. Lois waited, and then as seconds ticked by the accent and tone of the voice finally kicked in. She moved up through the darkness, scrutinizing her target in total disbelief as she recognized her partner. 

"Clark?" Her own lips trembled as she asked the question she already knew the answer too. It couldn't be him, not standing here full of life. Even if Luthor hadn't finished him he would need hospital care for several weeks. _It isn't real, maybe they gave you something, maybe you're dreaming..._ Confused and shocked, she dropped the microscope and gaped. 

Kent put a hand to his forehead, feeling the bump and tiny trickle of blood where the weapon had landed. As he backed away slightly dazed, Lois got her first full view of his features, and it finally became more than her overloaded brain could take. She felt herself falling as her mind shut down in self defense, falling to the cold harsh floor. 

In a heartbeat Clark forgot his own personal weakness and was at her side, catching her with his outstretched arms. As her full weight rested on him his knees began to crumple under the strain, but Clark would never fail anyone in need, and somehow he still managed to tenuously hold on. 

Lex entered the room, flicking on the lights, and Klein shortly followed. Seeing he now had two patients to tend the doctor pulled out a chair and let Clark set down his troublesome partner before he dropped her. As he let go his tight grip she revived somewhat and blinked, thinking she had simply had a nightmare. 

Clark tugged out the next chair, slumping down on it and probing his head again. "Did you have to hit me so hard?" Normally he wouldn't have even felt the impact, but right now he wasn't exactly up to full strength. The small cut had already gone, but he could still feel the throbbing it had caused behind his right eye. 

Lois scowled, then seeing he was very real had to fight off another fit of dizziness. "You should be dead..." She gazed at Luthor, then back to his cohort Klein. "And you..." There was something wrong about the whole situation, something very suspicious. "Is this all some conspiracy? Was Clark in on those murders all along?" 

Lex shook his head, wondering if he should start the narrative that would explain all, but then he saw Clark's face and knew the cop needed to do this by himself. If he got in trouble then Lex could always join in as reinforcements. Klein had decided he was best kept out of the situation altogether, and was busying himself checking Clark's more recent head wound. 

"I'm not in on anything," Clark explained as the doctor looked him over yet again, "but there is something you have to know about me. Many years ago, when I was just a kid, Smallville my home town was hit by a meteor shower. Things were never the same there after that..." 

Lois nodded. She had always been pretty much a city girl, but her cousin Chloe had long ago told her about the mysterious goings on in the creepy little town. "I remember Chloe talking about something...the wall of weird I think it was. But how does this all fit in with the murders, and how the hell did you survive that chest wound?" 

"It has nothing to do with the murders, but everything to do with my wounds..." Clark let that little piece of information sink in. He hoped deep down Lois would link him to being a meteor freak without much prompting, because he really didn't want to have to lie too much. Deceiving was one thing, but out and out non truths were something else. 

"You expect me to believe the meteors did something to you? That's why you're so difficult to hurt?" A hint of sarcasm crept into her voice, but she still watched him with amazement nonetheless. 

"He heals rather rapidly too, as I'm sure you've noticed." Lex interceded; knowing he could obfuscate and lie easily when Clark would not. "If you ask your cousin she'd be happy to fill you in..." 

"Chloe knows about this?" Lois looked paler with each new revelation. "And what about the murders?" 

The three men in the dimly lit room frowned simultaneously. This was going to be a long night of explaining, white lies, and hopefully a rebirth of long lost friendships...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

  
  
Outside Kent's Apartment...   
  
The putt putt putt of the Volkswagen's engine reminded Clark of a fishing boat he had once been in with his dad; small, old, and yet very reliable. He looked over at the car's driver and decided the 69 Beetle suited him just fine. Klein was a scientist, but also a decent moral man who had apparently saved his life. Why he worked for Lex was a mystery, but the fact that he did gave some credence to Luthor's story. 

Klein somehow sensed he was being watched, and as he turned onto Clark's street he dared to steal his eyes away from the road. "I'm glad Lex insisted I drive you home, there's so much I want you to know, so much you need to know about yourself. I don't expect you trust Lex very much, and I wouldn't blame you, but he's not half as bad as people think..." 

Clark didn't answer straight away. He needed to know so much more about Lucas Luthor before he made any final decisions, but then Lex had promised to come up with evidence, on the condition Clark went home and get a good night's rest first. Both Klein and Lois had seconded that motion, even though Lois still seemed in a daze at the things she had been led to believe. Right now she was checking in on Daryl, as he would be the obvious next target, then she was heading back to the precinct with a whole lot explaining to do about a certain call in for help. Clark wished he could be there for that little lie. 

"Why do you think Lex kept it from me that he knew where I'm really from?" The detective finally asked as Klein pulled to the curb. "I mean why leave it until now?" 

The scientist shrugged, his tiny bowtie bobbing up and down with the movement. "I doubt he would ever have told you, but this Rainman case has begun to really get to him. Lucas carried on those dire experiments of his father's, and Lex was powerless to stop him. Lucas is a devious man Mr. Kent, be careful of him, because it would appear he now knows your secret too..." 

"It would make sense that he would want me out of the way, I should get back to the station and have them move the surviving kid..." 

Klein smiled softly, putting a hand gently on the cop's arm. "I'm sure your partner can deal with that. Go rest up, your body needs it." 

Clark considered it, and was about to protest when he remembered something he had forgotten. "I have visitors..." 

Klein raised a brow and gazed around the street. It was empty save a vagrant walking by with a shopping cart. "You can hear them from here? I take it your heightened senses are returning?" 

Clark grinned then pointed to the battered red pickup Klein had parked behind. "Um, no, that's my dad's truck!" Smiling at the elder man he climbed from his cute little car, being careful not to bump his head and make a dent in the roof. "I think I may be in trouble when I get inside, with the case and all I kind of forgot they were coming over..." 

Klein started his classic back up and raised a hand. "Don't stay up too long, I know you might feel one hundred percent now, but just indulge an aging scientist? Oh and remember, Lex is coming over in the morning to try and sort out this mess ..." 

Clark watched the bug shaped yellow vehicle trundle away, then jogged as fast as he could up the stairs. No one was around at this time in the morning, so his super speed kicked in and he was at the door and inside before his parents knew it. In the background he could smell black coffee, and wondered just how long they had been waiting here. 

"Clarkie!" A shrill girl's voice shouted from the spare room, and the patter of feet told him she was headed this way, closely followed by what he discerned to be his parents footfalls. 

The ten year old appeared first, her strawberry blonde hair bobbing at her shoulders as she ran to greet him. Arms outstretched, Clark grabbed her and whisked her off her feet for a second. Her blue eyes danced at the sight of her big brother, and she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck in a huge hug. "I've missed you so much... and mom and dad have been really worried where you've been..." 

"Yes Clark," Jonathan Kent appeared in the doorframe with Martha right at his side, "just where have you been? You knew your mother and I were coming over. When we rang the precinct around ten and you still weren't accounted for we got pretty concerned!" 

Clark softly dropped Karyn to the floor, and was about to try and explain himself when his little sister let out a muted cry. "Clark!" As she looked down at her hands, a red sticky substance had rubbed from his shirt onto her fingers and her dress. Never having seen her brother hurt before she stared horrified at the sight. 

"I'm ok, it's ok..." Understanding the panic on her face, he whisked her back up in his arms and let their eyes meet. "Nothing wrong with me, see? Tomorrow we can even go shoot some hoops if you like?" 

The promise of attempting to beat him at basketball seemed to placate her and she giggled. "I thought you were bleeding!" She punched him in the arm to test his invulnerability, and once satisfied it didn't hurt she punched him lightly again. "You big doof Clarkie, you scared me!" 

Jonathan let the pair have their moment, then decided it was high time he and Martha knew what was going on. "Karyn, why don't you go wash that off, then we'll have some of your cookies..." 

Karyn nodded and obediently skipped into the bathroom, excited at the prospect of Clark tasting her latest culinary experiment. She had spent most of the afternoon exploring his kitchen, and had made some rather interesting and unique biscuits. Once she was out of ear shot both parents rushed up to their son and began bombarding him with questions. 

Martha was first to almost break down at the sight of his shirt, and the congealed blood that still covered most of one side of his chest. "Oh my..." Her hands instinctively covered her mouth as she gasped in shock and surprise. "What happened? Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine, at least I am now. It's been a long day." He sighed, then gestured for them all to go sit down. His old couch appeared more inviting every time he let his overlarge frame plop down on it. "I guess I better start at the beginning." He offered. 

Jonathan exhaled. "I guess you better had son, because for some reason I'm getting the distinct impression the name Luthor is going to be involved." 

Clark nodded. He didn't know how, but parents always had the uncanny knack for being right and yet wrong at the same time. Jonathan had always had a bad feeling about Lex; maybe he was right, maybe not. Only a little more time would tell. Patiently he sat and retold all he knew, while Martha examined every part of him to satisfy herself that he really was alright. The blood soaked shirt had alarmed her most, and she kept returning to it, almost afraid that he would start to bleed again. No amount of coaxing could seem to convince the doting parent otherwise, and she scowled at his attempts to thwart her prodding. 

After twenty minutes Karyn returned with a plate of cookies, and Clark gave in on his narrative, not wanting his sister to hear the gory details of what had occurred to innocent children, and ultimately his own near death experience. "I can tell you better tomorrow," He looked over at his dad, "when I have more facts..." 

Jonathan rubbed a hand over his weary eyes and nodded. He wasn't getting any younger, and another night of waiting for the whole story wouldn't matter now he knew his son was safe. "Just taste your sister's homemade delights, and then we better be headed back to our hotel, I think it's been a rough day for everyone." 

The detective smiled, and daringly took one of the huge creations from the plate he was offered. It certainly didn't look like any traditional cookie he'd ever seen, but once he bit into it he was pleasantly surprised at the taste. "Mnn, pretty good!" 

Karyn chuckled. "Maybe you wouldn't say that if you knew what I put in there!" To prove that the ingredients couldn't be too bad, she took one of her own inventions and munched on it, letting crumbs fall everywhere. "See they're safe really!" 

"Just like Mom's." Clark winked at his still fretful mother, but she wasn't letting him get away without a fight. 

"It's time we were going." She said matter of factly, her eyes peering at Jonathan for support. "And I think it's time you were in bed Clark." 

The twenty seven year old rolled his eyes, but did as he was told anyway. Super powers or not, there was nothing worse than defying your mom at any age. In truth he didn't need much persuading anyway, being tired was a new concept to him, and one he sincerely hoped he didn't have to put up with too often. "I'll just take a shower and clean up, then I'll go to bed for a few hours. I promise." 

"Can I stay with Clarkie? I'll make sure he does as he's told..." Karyn was tugging at her brother's sleeve pleadingly, but all the begging in the world wasn't going to make any difference tonight. 

"No honey, he needs to rest..." Martha held out a hand and grudgingly Karyn complied, walking to the door with her parents as slowly as her small legs would carry her. "We'll be over first thing Clark, make sure you rest..." 

"Sure thing mom." Clark watched them go then checked his watch. By the time he'd showered he wouldn't be in bed long before he had to rise again for his shift, and nothing was going to stop him getting to the bottom of this case now. If there was one chance in a million Lex was telling the truth, then he owed it to him to give him a chance. Sighing he zipped into the bathroom and quickly undressed, letting the soothing warm water relax his rejuvenating body. After a quick drink, he dropped into bed and was asleep before his head hit the soft, downy pillow... 

Clark was back at the farm, the sun beating down on his impenetrable skin, as he laid out a new section of wire fencing ready to tack to the wooden staves. It was a gorgeous day; a day to relax once the chores had been done. He smiled as he measured out the latest section, and although it seemed so very real, Clark knew this was a dream. It wasn't something his mind had conjured up from nowhere, but a deep rooted memory of a time he would never forget, a time some two years ago when Karyn had yet to learn his secret. 

He seemed to watch himself working in the midday heat while his parents had gone off into town. He had been on holiday, and had wanted to spend some valuable time with his family and friends. Karyn had been in the house, shelling the 'evil green peas' as he called them, or so he had thought, but then Karyn had never been predictable... 

Heavy rock music began to filter down to Clark's highly tuned ears as he began pounding in the first few tacks. The sound came in on a separate channel to his thumping of the hammer, and he paused, looking up at the source. Karyn had supposed to have been in the kitchen, and yet the music was quite clearly coming from the loft which she had acquired in his absence. 

"Hey Clark!" Karyn's voice had been taunting, wanting him to look up at what she was doing, and to this day the sight that had awaited him still sent a chill through his heart. 

She had been balancing precariously on the barn roof, her arms extended like some tightrope walker without a safety net. She smiled when she saw she had his attention, then began to walk across the ledge stopping to put all her weight on one leg at the very edge. 

Clark dropped his hammer with the shock of what he was seeing. The Kent's had wanted another kid so badly, and he had wanted a sibling. If he let anything happen to her now life wouldn't be worth living. His heart pounded in his chest as he waved furiously for her to stand still. 

"Karyn, don't move. I'm coming to get you down..." 

The eight year old found her older brother suddenly tiresome. She had seen him up here before when she had been much younger, maybe he had thought she was too young to remember, but she wasn't. "Aww Clarkie! You sound just like mom and dad." 

She moved closer to the edge, closer to the small section of rotted timber that Jonathan had been meaning to replace. Her sneakers slipped as she overbalanced slightly, letting her body rock and slide straight onto the decaying wood. 

"Karyn!" Clark's fears came true in just the blink of an eye. His sister was tumbling, then hanging with just her tiny fingertips from the ledge. With his vision he could see them slipping with her perspiration, even as he launched himself into flight. It might be broad daylight on a Kansas farm, but Clark didn't care who saw what he did. Karyn had to live. 

Just as the dry wood began to give way with her feathery weight and she sensed herself falling, she felt something move beneath her. A strong and protective arm wrapped around her waist and suddenly she felt airborne, weightless even. A squeal popped from her mouth before she knew it, and she squeezed her eyes shut in fear as her body didn't drop as she knew it should. Instead, she realized currents of air were brushing her pale face, and she dared herself to look. 

"Clarkie?" She looked straight into the eyes of her brother, a brother who was defying gravity in order to save her from a very untimely death. Gently he let his frame hover to the ground and contact with the earth with a soft thud, whilst still holding her tightly in his arms. Karyn gaped for a moment, then jumped from his grasp excitedly. "Wow! Can we do that again?" 

Clark rolled his eyes, exasperated. "No..." 

"You were flying! Wait till I tell mom!" She hopped from one foot to the other, suddenly forgetting she had nearly just broken her neck with her own imprudence. "Does dad know?" A grin appeared across her face as the thoughts of blackmail flashed through her mind. Maybe he'll let me cook now when mom's not around... 

Clark took hold of her firmly by the shoulders, trying to look as unyielding as Jonathan once had with him. It wasn't going to be easy, but he had to make his little sister keep this secret from even his parents, well at least let her think that for a short while. Otherwise she might blab to everyone. "It might not be a good idea to tell anyone about this for awhile, if you know what I mean...it can be our little secret..." 

Karyn grinned. "And maybe I can get to cook more often...and beat you at basketball..." 

Clark agreed, knowing underneath that he would have to tell his parents soon, and that when he did they would freak even more than they had when Pete had been told. Karyn was far too young to be burdened with this knowledge, even if she didn't know he wasn't quite human. And yet now it was too late, she knew...   
  
Clark woke in a daze; the recollection had been so real he found his body was covered in sweat, despite the cool morning air blowing in through the open window. It was strange really, because he could run at lightning speed and never perspire, but things like this still apparently affected his nervous system enough to cause it. He groaned as he glimpsed the time on his bedside alarm and realized he had overslept...another first since he had been in Metropolis. Why didn't the alarm go off? Kent picked up the clock and understood all too clearly what had happened. Next he gazed at the phone and his suspicions were confirmed; that was off the hook too. 

"Mom!" The detective's angry voice hid a hint of affection as he comprehended what had happened. Martha had been so concerned for his health she had strategically removed any distractions that might awaken him. Now he was late for work, and even his super speed couldn't save him...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
The Kent's Hotel Room...   
  
The hotel room was sparse but adequate, its lightly painted walls reflecting the early morning light. Karyn rolled over, not wanting to wake yet in this strange environment, but she was so used to rising before dawn on the farm she couldn't help herself. She yawned, pulling back the covers to meander into the bathroom, but something stopped her. 

He stood in the corner, his eyes watching through the dark blue mask as if he were a hawk watching a field mouse. Karyn froze, but found she couldn't speak. He liked that, liked seeing such a pretty, young thing afraid of him. In a way, he wished Luthor had given him the task of killing the kids instead of Moore. When the girl appeared transfixed rather than afraid after all, he grew angry, crossing the room in double quick time to take her before her parents awoke. He didn't want to have to get messy, but if the Kent's were half the trouble of their son....   
  
  
  


TO BE CONTINUED...  


  
  



	8. Memento Mori Part 8

Just a little this time to keep you going...   
  
  
At his touch, the girl finally succumbed and screamed, letting every bit of air in her lungs count. "Mom...Dad!" The shrill cry cut through the silence that came with the hour like a knife. 

The kidnapper hastily slapped a hand over his young victim's throat, cutting off her voice and airway. "Make another noise and your throat gets squeezed a little too hard honey..." 

Karyn nodded, sensing with his irate tone that he meant it. If she had another chance, she would try again, but not now. 

Satisfied, the man began hauling her towards the open doorway, her feet dragging helplessly on the floor as she refused to move willingly. It was a short distance, but too far to reach undetected....   
  
Martha Kent lay dozing after one of the worst nights in her life. First Clark had been missing, then he had come home in the early hours covered in blood: his own blood. It had been too much to take in, too much to face. Jonathan had taken it reasonably well, after all Clark had been fine, but Martha had still insisted he rest up. Even now, she worried about his health and his safety. 

Martha turned over to see her husband fast asleep, and wished she could take things so well. She snuggled closer under the quilt and wrapped an arm over him, only to be startled by a faint child's whimper. She shook it off, thinking her imagination was getting the better of her, but there it was again, and this time it was unmistakably Karyn. Without thinking Martha jumped from her bed, not even pausing to rouse her husband. It was a mistake she would regret later. 

The adjoining doorway lay ajar, just the way the doting mom had left it to keep an eye on her precious child. Martha should have stopped, she should have been more cautious, but instead she let her heart rule her actions and stormed on through the half open partition. Karyn was there by the exit, being dragged by some unknown assailant like some hunted animal. The girl's eyes flashed in horror at the sight of her mother, and she tried to forewarn Martha of the hidden danger with the direction of her gaze. The warning came all too late, and from behind the door a second kidnapper appeared, slamming the caring mom over the head with the butt of his gun. The action had the desired effect, and Martha tumbled feebly to the floor. 

The first captor nodded his approval. "You take the girl out to the van. I'll deal with the father. We don't want anymore unforeseen interruptions." He released the hand from Karyn's throat and roughly pushed her into the arms of his cohort. "If she makes trouble, deal with her like her mom." 

"Don't worry, I will..." The second villain pulled the delicate strawberry blonde hair till Karyn couldn't stifle a slight squeal of pain. At her cry he tugged again, and even though he too was masked the girl knew he was smiling manically. 

In her mind all she could think of was one thing. _If Clark were here you wouldn't be doing that._ For now though she was alone, and as her tiny body was forced out the door she wondered if even her big brother would find her in time. Outside she realized a red GMC van was waiting, its side panel door left open for easy access. _At least they're not going to kill me straight away...but what about mom and dad?_   
  
Martha lay on the carpet unmoving, just as her assailant had left her. The first kidnapper strode over her as if she were not there and sauntered into the bedroom. It would be easy to put two bullets into the dozing Kent, and perhaps even finish the mother off on the way out. He glanced down at the chrome finished Desert Eagle, and found himself caressing its cool finish with a gloved fingertip. "Third time lucky..." He whispered the words, hoping the third slug he fired from his recently acquired weapon would finally have some effect. 

"Not on my family!" a crashing sound from behind alerted the interloper that Jonathan was not in the bed after all. In fact he had played their own trick on them and had been waiting behind the door. He may be a simple farmer, but he had known he couldn't tackle two masked men with guns, and instead had waited till one was out of the way. 

Now he slammed down hard on the thug with the bedside lamp, only wishing he had the shotgun from the farm instead. The man raised his arm defensively, and the would be club only managed to loosen his grip on the semi automatic he carried. Jonathan dropped the remains of his weapon and finished off the job with his bare hands, punching the masked man in the face while he still had the element of surprise. "Just what do you think you're doing with my family?" 

The enraged father's shouts brought the shocked kidnapper to his senses, and he started to fight back, his much younger body being far more agile than that of even the fittest farmer. With one maneuver he had grabbed Jonathan's arm as he attempted to punch again, and with a flick of his wrist he had toppled the elder man straight over his shoulder and onto the floor. Winded, Jonathan gasped to regain his breath, and yet the attacker paused. It would be a simple matter to retrieve his gun and finish the fight, but Kent had enraged him now, and he would have to pay with pain. 

The mask seemed to taunt Jonathan as its wearer gestured mockingly that he should get up. In his mind he let himself see Martha and Karyn, and it was all the fuel his flagging body needed. He rose wearily, kicking the .50 caliber handgun into the corner out of harms way, at least for now. 

"Waiting for Clark to come save your ass?" The aggressor circled, trying to get a good angle for his next onslaught. "I'm guessing even he is a little tired after last night...maybe I'll do the same with his sister..." 

The jibe cut deep, just as he had expected it too, and the embittered father launched himself forward without thinking. It was just what his opponent had wanted. This time he moved lithely out of Jonathan's 'raging bull' assault, and grabbed the parent, whisking him around in a tight choke hold. 

As if he had timed his re-entrance, the second kidnapper returned and pulled out a thirty-eight upon seeing his friend's conflict. "I thought you could handle him?" The disapproval in the voice was clearly evident. 

The first man shrugged, increasing the grip on his victim till Jonathan's eyes began to water. "I just wanted a little fun. I mean the son was no fun at all last night. What say we take turns with dad instead?" 

The other man considered it, rubbing his cracked leather gloves together in contemplation. "I guess we better make it quick then, I hear our friend Clark may well be up and about by now... " He moved closer, till his weathered mask was just inches from the farmer's face and the pair could see the whites of one another's eyes. 

A faint odor of expensive aftershave wafted through the air as Jonathan scowled at the stranger before him, then before he had time to digest what it might mean, the assailant began punching. Each blow was perfect, calculated, and ruthless, as if the man had had plenty of practice at his most favorite art form...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

  
Kent's Apartment Building...   
  
Clark shut the service elevator door tightly closed then popped out of the side entrance of his apartment block. It was a cool morning, and a slight early mist was only now dissipating, giving way to the soothing October sun. He glanced up at it, wondering just how far away from it his own world was, then as more important things returned to his mind he whirled about to launch into super speed. 

"Hey Clark!" A car's horn blared, and as the detective watched Lex Luthor raced to a halt, his Porsche's soft top lowered even at this time of year. "Where the hell have you been!" The millionaire flicked up his sunshades and looked straight at his old friend with a mixture of distress and despondency. "Clark, no one can get you on your phone. I've been trying for the past fifteen minutes..." 

Clark sighed, thinking Lex was simply eager to prove his innocence. "It was your and Dr Klein's idea that I rest remember? Anyway, you can blame the phone on mom, she's even worse than you two. She took it off the hook and even reset my alarm. You know what she's like!" 

Fond memories rekindled in the rich man's mind as he flashed back to better days. He knew all too well how devoted Martha was, because it had always been something he had been a little jealous of. If he had the power to go back in time and change one thing in his own history, then it would have been unquestioningly to have different parentage. Now though, it pained him more to think that his family could have hurt Clark's. 

"Clark, listen to me, it's about your parents and Karyn..." Lex took off his shades altogether and motioned for the cop to jump into his passenger seat. "I think I better explain on the way, it would be quicker..." 

From nowhere fear chilled Clark to the bone. He had just been dreaming about his little sister, and now even though Lex had yet to enlighten him, he knew something bad had taken place. Without even considering the millionaire could be deceiving him, he hopped sinuously straight over the door and into the vacant leather seat. Lex took that as a sign to get moving and hopped back behind the wheel, revving the already running engine to maximum as he pulled away. 

"If you tell me where, I can run faster than even you can drive..." Clark gazed pleadingly at the hairless driver for answers. "How bad is it...?" 

Lex took a right turn onto the already busy freeway, and then maxed out his extremely illegal car's adapted engine and gearbox. Daring to look away from the road for a few seconds he tried to look optimistic. "I don't know all the facts yet, but my sources tell me you parents were attacked about thirty minutes ago and..." 

"And?" Clark couldn't stand the tension Lex was providing and scowled. "Please don't tell me..." 

"As far as I know they're going to be alright, but they took your sister Clark. It sounds like our guy, or should I say my dear brother Lucas, wants to exchange Karyn for the kid you have in your protection. I would imagine since Manning couldn't get through on the phone, he already has a cruiser on the way to inform you by now." 

The detective thought so too, and now that his family was involved in this very high profile case, he also suspected Manning would pull him off. It was standard procedure for cops not to be left on cases involving family, but also just the excuse the captain would be looking for after the previous night's bizarre call in. It didn't matter though, Clark didn't care if he had to hand in his badge, because there was no way he was backing away now. Karyn would always take priority. 

Lex perceived his thoughts. "Don't worry. I already have my people working on this too, and I do have some very good contacts..." A sparkle in Luthor's eye told the cop some of those contacts just might be a little unprincipled, but for now he let it slide. 

Lex turned again, and this time he slowed as they approached a recently erected police barrier. Ahead of it was the small hotel where Clark's parents had been staying, although now all that was discernable were row after row of police cruisers. Their sirens lay dormant, but the revolving lights still whirled, their blue and red hues glittering in the now rising sun. The reflecting radiance seemed to pause time itself for Clark, and as Lex pulled to a halt he sat dazed, not believing that this could be happening. 

"Come on," Lex hopped out as he spotted an ambulance on the hotel parking lot. "Let's go find your mom and dad." 

Clark finally followed, wresting his badge from his hip pocket as he jogged in front of Lex. To some his sudden reluctance may have seemed heartless, but Lex knew his hesitation was instigated by something else entirely. What if he entered the hotel, only to find this crime scene was like so many others he'd visited? What if he was too late again and his parents were dead after all? 

As Clark flashed his I.D. and was given rapid admittance, Lex attempted to console him. "I'm sure they're okay ..." 

"I know..." Clark appeared to squint first at the ambulance, then the hotel as he couldn't wait to see what had transpired. After an intense second he burst into a run at the ambulance. "Mom! Dad!" Lex followed without hesitation. 

Both Martha and Jonathan were sitting in the rear of the single rig, being tended by two youthful paramedics. Martha was quiet, not being able to take in that her beloved daughter had been abducted. Jonathan, although the most injured, was his usual irate self. The resolute E.M.T. struggled to clean a deep cut across his right eye, because the furious parent insisted on pushing him off, in an attempt to rush out after Karyn's kidnappers. 

"Dad, just let him work will you..." Clark appeared at the rear doors and grabbed his mom, hugging her as tears began to roll down her petrified face. He gave Jonathan a disapproving look as he tried once again to exit the emergency vehicle. "Dad, I don't know what these guys have said already, but you have three broken ribs, so sit down!" 

Grudgingly Jonathan complied, if only to placate his son and calm his sobbing wife. "Why on earth would they take Karyn?" He winced as he let his body drop back on the gurney, jolting every bruised and battered muscle so much he grabbed his side in agony. "It's Luthor isn't it?" The last sentence came out harsh and brutal, as if as usual he had already prejudged once again. 

Clark paused. Should he try and explain here and now, or wait till his dad had gotten some much needed treatment? _I can't waste time on this. Dad needs to go to the hospital, and I need to find Karyn before, before..._

A disconcerted voice cut of his anxious thoughts. "I can assure you Mr. Kent; I have played no part in this." Lex's head popped into view, and for once he didn't have a wily look on his face, if anything it was just the opposite. "I may be many things, but I am not, nor ever will be a child abductor. In fact I fully intend to assist in this matter in any way I can. My resources are at your disposal..." 

Jonathan scowled and leapt back up, almost knocking the medic off his feet despite how he felt. "You expect me to trust you! And except your help?" 

Clark entered the vehicle and pushed his dad gently but firmly back down. Right now anger was the only thing fueling his body, but pretty soon he was going to be hurting like hell. "Hear him out dad, I never got to finish my story last night, remember? Well if it hadn't been for Lex..." 

Luthor waved it away inconsequentially. "It was Dr Klein that did all the work. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time." Lex didn't mention that he'd been concerned that Clark was getting too close to his brother for days. And that he'd even considered having a man follow him. Ultimately though he had saved that task for himself, and it had paid off. 

"See Dad, something's are never what you think. Right now though I have to put Karyn first, and Daryl too. Manning will want to pull me off the case, so I can't stick around too long, he's bound to be here anytime..." 

"In about ten minutes, so I hear." Lois waited till her partner turned then shook her head. "I really picked the worst case to start my career at your precinct huh?" 

Kent put a hand to his head. The case was getting messy, of that there was no doubt, but that didn't mean he had to drag Lois or anyone else down with him. He glanced apprehensively back at his injured parents, seeing their distress and pain like no other man could. Jonathan's already swollen lips and bloodied face seemed to haunt him, suggesting that he was once again to blame, even though he was not the aggressor. Martha's pain was much worse. It wasn't the bump on the head that ailed her, but a deep rooted fear that she would never see her daughter again. Right then Clark knew he had to act, even though he wasn't sure what the right course of action was. 

"Lex? Can you follow the ambulance and make sure mom and dad get to the hospital ok?" He turned, not waiting for the answer. "Lois, can you keep Manning off my back just a little longer?" 

In unison the group asked the same fearful question. "Where are you going?" 

Clark looked back to where his sister had been taken. It looked so innocent, so uneventful a place. Flowers hung in baskets from the walls in abundance, each plant carefully picked by the elderly hotel owner for their distinct beauty. If nothing else, he needed to make sure the world could be kept that way, so that virtue always overpowered iniquity. "I'm going to make sure no more kids are hurt by Luthor..." He looked knowingly at Lex, and the Senator returned his gaze with a half smile. 

Jonathan's mouth opened, about to protest, even though he had no idea what the cryptic exchange between two old friends had meant. Instead however, another thought came to mind and he shouted his son back. "Clark! I almost forgot, when I was fighting one of those guys I managed to disarm him. Your guys have the gun bagged and tagged already..." 

"It was a brand new Desert Eagle, chromed with a custom engraving. It showed a shark I think." Lois offered the information and Clark digested it. "All the serial numbers were removed naturally..." 

Lots of people were using that model these days. The most powerful semi-auto in the world had gained far too much attention as being a tough guy's weapon, thanks to the movies. Clark hated it, and everything it stood for, just like any article of violence. The one thing this did confirm however, was that the kidnapper and the hit-man were one and the same. In a way it scared Clark even more, because it meant no matter what happened this guy would kill Karyn. 

"I have to go..." Not letting them try to dissuade him, he turned tail into the crowd of cops, trying to get away before Manning arrived. All around he could hear the static of radios relaying the A.P.B. for Karyn Suzann Kent, and it cut deeper than ever before. Once out of sight, he hit super speed to the safe house where Daryl was hopefully still protected. He would never give the ten year old up for his sister, but maybe just maybe Daryl could help find her with his own very special gift...   



	9. Memento Mori Part 9

Well I'm swamped with things to do as real life takes a hold, so I thought it was time I gave you the end. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this, as much as I have writing it! Thanks for your reviews and time :)   
  
M.P.D. Safe House...  
  
Daryl looked from the second story window out on to the bustling suburb below. It was the epitome of everything he held dear, and had suddenly lost. Kids were delivering papers or taking their dogs a walk before school, every one seemed happy, not like him. They were normal kids, with families to come home too, people to love them. In his mind he saw his mom putting his lunch ready for school, and he smelled her home baked cookies. These were things he would never see again, and it hurt because it was his fault. Why hadn't he seen their future, just like he did others? Why hadn't he known in time to alert someone? 

Afraid of the answers Daryl flicked on the pc the cops had provided for his 'entertainment'. It was no substitute for life or normalcy, but it had given him a much needed distraction during the night when he couldn't sleep. He hadn't slept since that fateful day, not even for an hour, maybe he never would again, and all because he was 'different'. 

A young girl giggling down on the street caught his ear and he sighed, knowing the computer would offer no relief today. Dejectedly he switched it to stand by and lay on the bed, stuffing his head into a pillow to try and drown out the real world. It was then that he realized only one other person might know how he felt, and perhaps would understand him. The detective on his parent's case was special, just like he was, maybe when the case was over he would help? 

Daryl exhaled, letting his mind clear. It would be a simple task to find out more about Detective Kent, and to know if he ever would help. At one time 'seeing' the future had been a random thing, only switching on and off when it so chose, but as Daryl had grown, so had the extra brain mass. Now if he concentrated he could control it, manipulating what he saw, and who he saw in the future. To access any imminent event he simply had to pick a target, and right now that was Clark. 

Letting his body relax, Daryl brought the cop to mind, wanting to see just what would happen in the next few hours, or at most days. He twitched as his cortex began accessing data from some unknown ethereal source, but what he saw was not what he had intended... 

Sometimes his visions still went astray, as if he were on the correct path, but not quite reaching his destination. Today was one such day, when his youthful mind could not quite command the gift it had been given. In a way Daryl was glad, because now perhaps he might save a life, instead of causing yet more heartache. 

Once latched onto his subject, Daryl closed his eyes, not wanting to lose the connection. He had never seen the people before, or the place, and yet he knew the young girl was unmistakably the cop's sister; Karyn Kent. 

The room the girl sat in appeared grim and dirty, and Daryl suspected it hadn't been used by anything but rodents in quite some time. She was tied to an old wooden chair, her mouth gagged by a piece of silver tape, and her eyes darting to and fro in a curious but panicked frenzy. Behind Karyn he could see a window, its glass panes as grimy as the rest of the room; at least what was left of them. He focused his mind on the small broken sections, trying to peer through the jagged edges of glass to the outside. If he could see anything at all, then maybe he could guess where she was being held captive. 

Daryl felt his brain begin to lose a grip on his contact and he concentrated harder, wanting to see the exterior of the room before his mind gave in and returned him to the present. The external images came to him in a blur, no one thing staying in focus for more than a second. Overgrown trees and shrubs at first hid the all important clues he would need, and he sighed, angry with his own subconscious. Then a small flash of rusty metal showed itself through the kaleidoscope of broken pictures, and Daryl recognized the corroded hulk of a train and its carriage. More locomotives came into view, and they too were tarnished, and obviously disused. 

Daryl squinted, wanting to see more, but his overloading psyche had had enough. Abruptly it flicked back without warning to the room, and to the girl. A man was with her now, his tone suggesting he was angered to the extreme. He wore a blue mask, hiding his features from view, but his body language said enough. The gun in his hand waved in the air constantly, and his voice became more irate as his mood blackened. 

"Your brother won't swap the Weiss kid for you! Does he think I'm not serious? Does he think I'm not man enough to carry through with my threat?" The man paced slightly as the little girl watched him terrified, but unable to reply. "I think its time I showed them what I'm capable of, Moore was a wuss compared to me..." 

Daryl watched with a new sense of fear and presentiment. Clark's sister was going to be killed right before his eyes and there was nothing he could do to change it. The gunman touched his weapon with a kind of admiration, then brought the end of the barrel up to Karyn's skull, pressing it into her flesh till it marked her pale skin. "Say bye bye honey..." 

Daryl recoiled from his premonition just as the bullet erupted from the chamber with a huge crack, sending out a fine spray of gunpowder residue on its victim; or what was left of her. It was a sight he didn't want to see, and yet he felt guilty for it anyway. _It's my fault, but maybe I can stop it this time. No one else need die because of me..._

Daryl sat forward on the edge of his bed and pulled the quilt around him, suddenly feeling a chill through his whole body. The only way to put and end to this was to give them what they wanted, and he could do that all by himself. He looked over to where the computer still sat innocently on stand by. All he needed now was to find out exactly where the place he had seen was, and it could all be over. _If what I saw doesn't happen before I can get there..._

The pc came back to life with just one click of a key, and Daryl swiftly logged onto the net. What he had spotted must surely be an old train station or loco scrap yard, and no matter how big Metropolis was, there couldn't be too many of those around. Knowing the best search engines for this kind of hunt, Daryl was on the trail of the kidnappers in just over ten minutes. The place he had seen appeared on the local historical society's web page, and was apparently in an area the locals called 'suicide slums'. It had been tagged for redevelopment for more than five years now, but the low life that inhabited the area were proving hard to remove. It certainly wasn't a place his parents would have wanted him to frequent, but then they weren't exactly in a position to complain anymore. 

Mapping out a route on a nearby notepad, Daryl forced a hand in his jeans pocket and tugged out a palmful of loose change. If he was lucky, then maybe it would buy him a bus ride most of the way across town, but he would have to walk the rest and cut through the old station's 'boneyard' of defunct vehicles. Shrugging he moved to the door from his room and peeked through as he opened it just a small crack. The cop guarding him sat at a table, sipping coffee and reading some sports magazine. There was no way he could be passed without questioning. 

Daryl turned back, undaunted, and walked over to the window. It was quite a drop to the grass below, and from this height he could easily break a leg or more if he fell. Not caring, he launched himself out onto the ledge anyway and shuffled along till he reached the far end. Just out of his small arms reach lay the rear metal fire escape, if he could grab onto it and slide down his problems would be over. All it would take was one leap, and a whole lot of luck. Daryl sighed and looked to the ground again, because just lately, luck had not been on his side...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
The Safe House,  
Twenty Five Minutes Later...   
  
Clark hammered his huge fist on the door, impatience and worry getting the better of him. When no one at first replied he thought about smashing straight on through, then he calmed and remembered he could see inside without such a destructive act. As his eyes cut through the door the detective on duty swung it open, giving Clark a full view of his skeleton and the Danish he had chewed on before answering the door. 

"Where's Daryl?" Kent pushed his way inside, not waiting for the obese cop's reply. "Shouldn't you be watching him?" 

The guard shrugged. He hated 'babysitting' duty, and it was all too apparent. "He's in the bedroom, playing on that damn computer again. It's all he does, even at night." 

Clark swung open the adjoining door with a harsh shove, already knowing it was empty. The window lay open where the kid had left it, and in the morning breeze a nearby notepad's pages flicked back and forth. Kent honed in on them, and even from this distance could still see the indentations the last writer had made. It looked like directions, and yet they appeared to have been scribbled in a hurry, and in no particular order. Without the author they were useless. 

"You let him get out!" Clark couldn't hide his disgust. "Do you realize what they'll do to him if they catch him?" 

Again the guardian seemed nonplussed. He sauntered back to his second Danish and switched off the TV that had been running in the background. "Relax. What's all the fuss? I mean they already got the Rainman." 

If Clark had been a violent man, or even his father, the detective might have gotten more than a tongue lashing for his incompetence. As it was Kent shook his head and turned back to any evidence he might find at hand. "If you'd been keeping up with developments you'd know my sister has been taken, and they want Daryl in exchange." 

An uneasy silence followed as Clark inspected the still warm pc, and ignored the embarrassed officer at his side. On the flat screen he scrolled through the most recently viewed sites, noting every one showed Metropolis landmarks and places of interest. Now it was his job to draw a parallel between them all and the directions so hastily jotted down. Any man could have done the task, but not as quickly as Clark's speeding brain cells allowed. 

After calculating all the possibilities he scrawled a quick note of his own. "Take this," he pushed the directions in the fat cop's chubby hand, "send backup as fast as you can, and tell them to be careful. There are two kids in there, and hopefully they're still alive." 

"Count on it!" Eager to redeem himself, he reached to the food filled table for his radio. When he spun back around Kent had vanished, leaving not even the echo of his footsteps on the unadorned stairs...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
'Suicide Slums'  
The Old Station Yard...   
  
The yard seemed strangely quiet to Clark after the flurry of activity in the city, but he didn't kid himself for one moment that this place could ever be innocent; it was in the wrong part of town for that. Every scumbag and lowlife in Metropolis had spent time here at one point or another in their lives. It was a regular den of inequity, and sooner or later someone had better clean it up. 

He glanced around the broken down trains and carriages, secretly searching for his sister or Daryl, but each vehicle held only an abundance of local wildlife. Some had bats hanging from their dilapidated and rotting ceilings, others had rats, mice, and an overabundance of insects and other creepy crawlies. He moved on, taking each step with care and precision, not wanting to alert the kidnappers to his presence. 

Up ahead the cop noticed the multitude of weeds and wild couch grass had been recently well trodden. It could mean this place was being used as a hideout for any of the slums known criminals, or it also could mean Daryl had been correct in thinking Karyn was here. _As long as I got here before he did, we still might have a chance of this ending without more bloodshed..._

A creaking of metal alerted Clark to another's sudden arrival and he whirled, perhaps a little faster than normal. Brett Falmer grinned back with his usual sarcastic face, then lowered his already drawn sidearm. "How do you always get to the scene first?" He jogged up beside his ex-partner and winked, rolling a piece of gum around his mouth as he surveyed the area. "I just got the call as I came by this place; I guess I couldn't have been closer if I'd planned it." 

"See anything yet?" Clark queried, continuing his visual sweep. 

Brett shook his head, and then nodded towards the ramshackle complex of buildings to the South. "I don't think our guy is in the bone yard. Maybe over in the workshops, or upper story offices?" 

Clark had to agree, but it was one huge risk to go over there with Falmer on his tail. Without the use of his powers it would be almost impossible to control the situation. The only alternative was to do whatever it took, even if that meant revealing himself to save a life. "Let's go take a peek, and hope the rest of the backup doesn't take too long..."   
  
The workshops massive shutter door hung rusted and limp, leaving plenty of room for anyone who so wished to enter. Clark crouched down first, slipping his large frame through the gap with ease. Brett tagged along behind, his weapon still in the defensive position should anyone attack. "Still not getting your gun out?" 

Kent pretended not to hear the mocking remark, and instead began scanning the upper offices as quickly as his vision would allow. They were all dark and foreboding, each one an advertisement of why not to visit this part of Metropolis. The place had obviously been used for illicit purposes for many years, but would it now become a home to murder too? 

The detective almost shuddered at the thought, then paused when his x-ray mode caught full view of a skeleton tied to a chair. He turned down the intensity of his scan, and looked again, knowing the tiny figure was his sister. She appeared unharmed apart from a few bruises to her wrists, but the terror in her expression was almost too much to bear. 

"Karyn..." 

"You see something?" Falmer edged in closer, and then took the lead up an open stairwell to the next floor. The walls here were graffiti filled, mostly with things Clark wished Karyn hadn't been exposed to. She was far too unsullied for all of this. 

"Not yet." Clark told a white, but necessary lie, then searched more of the rooms for the kidnappers, but no one seemed to be around. It was unusual, and it scared him slightly for the kids' sakes. "We should go this way..." 

Not caring whether Falmer followed or not, Kent veered off down a corridor and stopped outside the office his sister was in. He checked again, just to be sure, and then knowing it was clear quietly entered. Karyn's eyes bulged at the sight of her rescuer, and were she not gagged she would have cried out in pleasure. Clark put a finger to his lips as he began to undo her bonds, indicating he required her silence when he removed the gag. She nodded then patiently waited as Brett came into the room too. Seeing it was clear, he pushed his revolver back in its hip holster then casually sauntered over to a dented filing cabinet that sat to the right of the window. 

"Funny how things are never what they appear isn't it Clark? Just like you?" Falmer picked up a shiny new weapon from the cabinet without even stopping to slip on any latex gloves. That coupled with his strange sentence caused Kent to stop what he was doing and raise a brow. 

The gun was now pointed in his and Karyn's direction, waving to and fro as if its owner couldn't decide whom to shoot first. Brett smiled, and then grabbed a spare clip that was lying in the dust and threw it at Clark. "See what I found!" 

Thinking Falmer was taking one of his all too frequent jokes too far, Clark instinctively grabbed what was headed his way then cringed. The one thing he had never expected was happening, and he had fallen for it. As the metal casing hit his open hand the kryptonite enhanced bullets inside began to affect his body, and he collapsed on the floor in agony, dropping the clip as he rolled on his side. 

"You?" The failing cop's voice couldn't hide his amazement and anguish at his old friend being involved in such heinous crimes. Now all too late he noted the gun Brett had retrieved from the cabinet was a Desert Eagle, just like the one he had been shot with. "Why?" He gasped, trying to hold onto consciousness for Karyn's sake. 

Brett moved closer, the distorted light from the grimy window making his shadow all the more fiendish and demon-like. "I wish I could give you some moral reason, like they do on TV? But to be honest Kent I haven't got one. I'm in this for the money." He stopped, checking his watch. "I wish I had more time, then I could ramble on and let you find a way out. Something else they do on the shows huh? Well not here, this is reality. All I want from you is where that little brat Weiss is, and I'll end it real quick for you..." 

Clark coughed, trying to move his shaking hand enough to push the evil cache of bullets away, but Falmer simply kicked them closer. Shaking his head he leaned till his head was close to his victim's, waiting for a reply. 

"You'll kill me and Karyn anyway...I won't risk Daryl's life as well..." 

Falmer smirked, then stooped to retrieve Kent's own gun. It gleamed from regular cleaning, although it had still yet to be fired off the range. "I won't kill Karyn Clark, you will, and with your own weapon. Later in a fit of guilt for your involvement in all of this you might just kill yourself too, or maybe I can shoot you when I catch you in the act of being the kidnapper. That would certainly be a plus on my record." He stuffed Kent's weapon into the top of his trousers and leered. 

Kent's eyes blurred, but he refused to give into the evil green menace. "You expect them to think I was in on all of this with Moore?" 

"I won't need to do much work to convince them, after all Manning already suspects you're over the edge. Just think, I'll be a hero for shooting you! Now, where is the Weiss kid?"   
  
Karyn fidgeted with her almost untied wrists, trying desperately to finish the job Clark had started, so she could act before he got his brains splattered across the room. She had known once Falmer had spoken who he was; even without the mask his voice had betrayed him. The problem was being gagged it was impossible to get through to her brother in time. Now she feared her valiant efforts would be in vain, and they would both die. 

Brett was forcing his Desert Eagle to the side of Clark's head now, making the misery he felt double with the proximity of yet more tainted bullets. Still though he wouldn't give in, his body writhing from the effects as his cells were attacked by the meteor radiation. "Going to tell me yet?" Falmer let sarcasm tinge his already contemptuous voice. 

"He'll never give in to you!" Karyn, finally loose enough from her bonds and gag, launched herself at her brother's attacker without thinking. It was totally a spontaneous reaction, and had she thought it through fear might have stopped her. As it was she charged at her kidnapper with the chair still half fastened to her legs. She tripped unintentionally, and as Falmer turned the pair crashed to the floor, his all too precious Eagle skimming away from his loosened grasp before he could respond. 

"Damn you!" He half rolled, pushing the little girl and her attached chair away, but Karyn wasn't done yet. With her free hand she grabbed his short blonde hair and yanked hard, just like he had done to her. The unexpected action made him roar with anger and he kicked her off, spinning her closer to Clark as he hunted for his lost sidearm. 

Any normal ten year old might have curled up and bawled by now, but not Karyn. In her mind Clark had once saved her life, and she would repay her brother a thousand-fold were it possible. For now all she could do was try and boot away the clip that was causing him all the trouble. In her inverted position, half bound to the chair it was difficult, but somehow she managed to lash out just enough to send the thing flying off into the corner. 

Instantly Clark began to recover and clambered to his feet. "Are you alright?" 

"Go get him or he'll get away!" 

Nodding Kent whirled to see Brett dashing out the doorway... without his Eagle. The only weapon he had now was Clark's gun, and that was of no use against its very special owner. "Stay here!" Clark barked the order to his sister as he super sped after his foe. It was personal now and he didn't want Karyn involved anymore, because being a criminal was bad enough, but being a bent cop was far worse... 

In the outer passageway it was dark to everyone save Clark, but then he could see in any type of light, and that would always give him the upper hand. Right now though he was surprised to see Falmer had vanished. At first it seemed an unfathomable mystery, so Clark let his ears join in the hunt. Down the corridor the unmistakable sound of leather, sliding on something metallic made Kent burst into action and resume the chase. 

A lone steel wire hung from a collapsed section of ceiling, and somehow Falmer had used his belt wrapped around it to abseil over the exposed balcony, and down into the workshops below. It was a brave move, and one that almost worked. Clark however, needed no such crude devices to follow in his wake. 

With one slick dive he was over the balcony and floating to the oil and diesel ridden floor below, his jacket billowing in the downdraft like some would be cape. Even after years of disuse he could smell the pungent odors that had once filled this place. Trains had been overhauled here for over half a century, and even now one ancient hulk sat quietly on the turntable, waiting for a refit that would never come. Clark ignored it, instead watching Brett as he stood on the far side of the revolving floor section. 

"You have a family of your own, how could you be part of this?" The question wasn't meant as a distraction. It was more for Clark's own peace of mind. How can a man I trusted for so long be so evil? 

"Because I wanted to. Money can do lots of things..." The crooked cop backed up, glancing to his left and right for a means of escape. "If I had known just what you're capable of though, I wouldn't have let my involvement become quite so high profile." He retreated more, till his boot caught on the ledge of the train track. 

Clark observed him, noting his onrush of fear from the sudden increase in his heartbeat. _He's still going to try and make a run for it..._

Knowing he had to put an end to Falmer's actions before the rest of the backup arrived Clark looked for an opportunity to thwart his foe, and found one. The almost antique turntable they stood on had lain dormant for so long its underground gears had corroded solid, but to this cop that didn't matter. Clark dropped to the ground, confusing Brett and giving Clark ample time to grab a section of track and tug at it with his super strength. 

The floor lurched as cogs that had seized up strained under the pressure, then with a howl of metallic pain, the turntable spun around just as Kent had intended. The whole action had only taken seconds, causing Falmer to be tossed from his feet by the pitching movement beneath him. He screamed in anger and pain as his body slammed into the rusted train rails, then he grabbed Kent's weapon that still lay tucked in his trousers. 

"What kind of freak are you? Luthor said you were different but..." Not knowing what else to do the corrupt cop let off a round in temper at his indestructible enemy. 

"No!" A child's voice shrieked from an old storage cupboard, and Daryl burst into view. He hadn't been here long, but he had seen enough to know that Clark was in real trouble. The one thing he didn't realize now was that Brett was using his friend's own gun, and that the bullets were quite harmless to him. "Take me, I'm what you wanted!" 

Falmer turned just as Kent launched himself between the two, hoping to deter any slugs that headed for Daryl. "I don't mind if I do Weiss!" Brett tugged hard on the trigger, emptying every last slug at the kid. 

Clark saw them as if he had just put the world on pause. Each projectile fanning out from the original firing point and zooming straight towards their young and innocent victim. Even at his phenomenal speed it was going to be a close call. With his outstretched hand he cuffed the first two slugs harmlessly to the side, and then he rolled over almost in mid air, letting his back take the impacts of the rest... at least that's what he hoped. Two painless blows to his spine soon told him otherwise, and as he turned back he watched in horror as Daryl's wiry frame crumpled to the dirt ridden floor, his body taking one or more of the stray slugs. 

Falmer grinned. "Guess that's the last of the little brats. My job here is done." Keeping Kent's weapon and forcing in another clip he turned tail, running for the small entrance point they had come in by. 

Kent bit into his lower lip with frustration, although he never felt it. He had choices to make, stay with the dying ten year old, or trap a killer. His eyes fell on Daryl and he rushed over, not wanting the kid to be alone for one moment. Clark cradled him, letting his almost weightless body rest in his arms. Blood ebbed onto his shirt, but Clark ignored it, anger so intense making him want to do the unthinkable to Falmer. 

Daryl stirred, somehow perhaps even sensing the cop's thoughts. "You have to stop him, but you can't hurt him...there's always another way, you know that." The words were almost a whisper as Daryl's eyelids began to flutter. "Trust me; just don't let him leave...he'll get what he deserves..." 

Clark nodded. Falmer was nearing the exit now, running like a man possessed, or a man not wanting to face the wrath of one Clark Kent. He never stopped to look back, but if he had he would never have believed his eyes anyway. Clark had gently propped Daryl up on the nearest wall, noting the life's blood that spattered it from the kid's back. Now he'd returned to the turntable, picking up the derelict train like a toy. Its weight was nothing to him, but its sides rocked as he lifted it high above his head, angling for the shot just like he would when shooting hoops. 

The oxidized metal began to cave in under the cop's iron grip, and he knew he had to take the shot or lose the opportunity. With one last heave he let the locomotive fly, watching awestruck as his own power sent it soaring across the workshop at precisely the right angle. It was an impossible sight, made real only by his very alien origins. 

Finally realizing something was happening, Brett whirled around just as the train began its descent. It collided with the concrete floor like a lightning bolt from the blue only yards from his position, sending shards of debris skimming in every direction. Falmer braced himself, shielding his eyes from the earth shattering landing, and all the flying wreckage. When he looked back up the dust was already dissipating, and he expected Kent to be waiting. As his field of vision cleared however, he was amazed to see the cop once again by the Weiss kid's side. _What the hell is he? He has all those abilities and he puts the dying brat first? No wonder he never drew a gun..._

Satisfied his escape would be an easy one, Falmer decided he needed to find a new exit and fast. He frenziedly scanned the workshops, and then a new sound made him stop in his tracks. Before he could deliberate any further an intense blast signaled the entry of Metropolis police department's finest S.W.A.T. team. Several officers suddenly descended from the roof on ropes, others exploded through the recently blown hole in the side wall, their machine guns drawn for action. 

The leader held up a hand to keep his men at bay while he gave the murderer one last chance. "Give it up Brett..." His voice came out muffled through the black mask he wore, but his gun hand remained perfectly steady. 

Falmer didn't wait to give a reply. He had spotted one last chance for freedom, but it meant making a run passed Kent. He didn't care, firing his last few bullets at the lead cop; he dashed back the way he had just come. Some would have said his actions were suicidal, but to Brett they were totally justified. He didn't want to die here, and he sure didn't want to die in some Kansas prison after years on death row. Perhaps though the most frightening thought of all came from another source, because if he didn't escape, Luthor would surely have him removed as a security risk, either way his last run was the only chance for life.   
  
Clark turned as the armed response unit opened fire in retaliation at Brett's shots. Bullets whizzed in every direction, some hitting the walls and ricocheting around the stark abandoned work place until the noise was almost unbearable to his sensitive ears. Instinctively he covered Daryl's view of the scene, not wanting him to see Falmer's death. It was something that could have been avoided, the whole mess was, and as ever Clark blamed himself. The true blame lay with Lucas Luthor of course, but with Brett gone and Daryl lying dying was any of it worth it? 

The leader of the S.W.A.T. team approached, and as he pulled down the mask that hid his appearance Clark could see it was Manning. The captain's moustache twitched as he noted his subordinates bloodied clothes, and the young victim he now held. Frantically he gestured towards another team member. "Its all clear! We need those medics in here now!" 

Clark almost didn't hear. Instead his gaze never moved from the now very still boy in his arms, only one thing pounding in his brain. _Was it worth it? Is it ever worth it...?_   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

  
  
A Metropolis Cemetery...   
  
The October rain had once again given way to early morning sunshine, its rays falling on the recently churned earth like some bleak reminder that life did go on no matter what. Bird's chirped, oblivious that they were intruding on the sleep of the dead. No one came back from here though, because their slumber was interminable. 

Clark watched the proceedings from a distance, noting only a few close family members had attended Brett Falmer's funeral. It was to be expected he supposed, but it still made him wonder how so many people could have not known the truth behind the mask of Falmer's personality. _How do people turn out this way?_

"Penny for your thoughts?" 

Kent turned to the welcome sound of his partner's voice, and stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets he started to walk towards the next grave he needed to see with Lois in tow. "I was wondering what turns a person into a killer? Do we all have the instinct within us, waiting to be awakened like some dormant disease?" 

Lane didn't know. The criminal mind was an enigma she had long given up trying to decipher. One thing she did know though was that maybe Kent wasn't the ideal cop. Ever since the Weiss kid incident he had blamed himself, saying the shooting couldn't have happened if he hadn't been carrying a weapon. Maybe he was right, but while ever the bad guys were armed, Lois thought the cops needed to be too. "So do you think there's any hope for mankind with such heinous crimes becoming more common every day?" 

Clark paused, looking down at the recently engraved headstone he had come to see with a heavy heart. The inscription was a simple one, made all the more poignant by the fact that it was a kid's final resting place. _Daryl Weiss, Too young to die, too special to live..._

The boy had been placed next to his parents, no flowers or tributes marked the site, just three simple tombstones. There was no one left in the world to come visit this family. Clark leaned, brushing a hand over the cold stone, and then oddly smiled. "There has to be hope Lois, or life wouldn't be worth living..." 

"But all this and Lucas Luthor still won!" Lane's angry words echoed in the silence of the graveyard, startling a nearby squirrel as it watched them from an overhanging branch. "How can we ever pin all this on him?" 

Clark straightened up, inhaling deeply. "We will, I promise you that much..." 

The sound of crunching gravel made both detectives look up and pause their conversation. It was unusual for unauthorized vehicles to be allowed entrance here, and yet a lone black limo was approaching. Its slow speed made Lois wonder if its driver had become detached from some funeral procession, but Clark knew otherwise. 

"I need to go have a word with someone. Meet me back at the station?" 

Lane acknowledged his request with a quick nod, then watched as he jogged up to the brand new stretched Mercedes. All the windows were blacked out, and she suspected they would be bulletproof too. After all, it wasn't too hard to guess whom this show of cash actually belonged to. Lex Luthor still gave her the creeps, and for once she was glad she didn't have to follow her partner to see him. The bald Senator may have saved Kent's life, but it would be a long time before her instincts let her trust him...   
  
Clark tapped on the Plexiglas window with a smirk on his face. As he had made his way over, the license plate to the armored limousine had caught his eye, and it had amused him to see that Lex had changed the vanity registration to SLL, rather than various variants of LL. It was easily apparent why, because he didn't want associating with the LL that stood for Lucas Luthor... 

"I see you changed your plates. Are you sure they're legal?" Clark feigned an expression of seriousness and hopped into the immense leather clad interior. 

Lex let his gaze fall on his old friend with a look of mirth, then to his younger passenger. "What do you think Daryl?" 

"I think I like your car sir!" Daryl gritted his teeth as he sat forward to investigate the wealth of buttons at his disposal, letting the pain he still felt in his damaged body show without thinking. He pushed several of the switches anyway and a bar emerged in front of them. Tastefully stocked with non alcoholic drinks for the kid's and his benefit, Clark noted. 

"Are you sure you should be up and about yet? I thought the doctors said next week at the earliest..." The detective looked concerned as Daryl winced again, but grabbed himself an ice cold Coca Cola from Lex stocks anyway. 

"I'm fine. You should stop worrying about me and deal with that box in your back pocket!" The still hurting kid looked knowingly at his elder. "I mean I know you do in the end, so it may as well be sooner rather than later..." 

Clark's cheeks blushed slightly and Lex raised a brow, but the cop wasn't about to tell his newest secret just yet. Trying in vain to alter the topic he grabbed a cool drink and turned his attention back to Lex. "Seriously, is he ok to be out so soon?" 

"Stop worrying, I paid for the best and I got the best. I've been assured he'll be fine. Once the surgeon gives the all clear I have a nice little place for him to stay where Lucas won't find him. My top security people will be with him." Lex ruffled Daryl's hair. It was strange but he was becoming attached to the kid, but then he had liked Ryan too, and couldn't help but draw a comparison. "I've arranged for a similar body to have been placed in the casket, so should Lucas wish to check on the validity of Daryl's demise..." He let the sentence hang; knowing Clark would have something to say. 

"Just where did you find suitable remains?" As an afterthought Clark waved off his own question. "On second thoughts, I guess I shouldn't even ask..." He took a gulp from his bottle, the fizzy drink refreshing his taste buds and making him want more. "Have you heard anything about Lana?" 

Luthor's eyes twinkled. "She's staying with Mayor Ross at the moment, but she has enquired if she can spend some time with Daryl once he's relocated, and frankly after all they've been through I think it's a good idea." 

Lana knows Daryl's alive? How?" Clark sounded incredulous that the kid's very alive status could be so easily discovered. He wasn't afraid Lana would tell anyone, but the more knew the truth, the harder it would be to keep quiet. 

Daryl looked at his new and very wealthy mentor for support. "I kind of asked Mr. Luthor to tell her. I feel so alone...and Lana's been through all this before. I know we talk in the future, I've seen it..." 

Surprised and satisfied Clark gave in. "Okay, but no one else needs to know." He looked outside as the now moving car stopped at a red light. "I have to be going, I guess its time I did sort out this huh?" He tapped the back pocket that contained the small box, then winked at the youngster. 

Lex frowned, hating all the witty subterfuge that was bouncing around in his car. It was one thing to tantalize him, but not to ever give him the answer was just going too far. "You can't leave without telling me what this is all about!" 

The much lamented Kent grin flashed across Clark's face as he popped open the rear door. "Oh you'll know soon enough..." And with that he was gone, lost in the milling crowds of shoppers. 

"He's like a teenager on a first date again..." Lex voiced his thoughts as the car began to move once more out of the city. "If I didn't know better...ah well I don't have such concerns." 

Daryl's eyes glinted. "You will Lex, and her name will be Jacqueline..." 

The billionaire's normally invulnerable façade melted in a second, and he gaped open mouthed at his young passenger. Knowing the future could be a good thing, but right now he wasn't sure how much of it he wanted revealing. Ever since Helen Bryce he had maintained a certain distance from getting involved with any woman. There had been countless girlfriends of coarse, but they're relationships had been purely physical. He had vowed no one would ever hurt him again the way Bryce had, and yet here and now, Daryl had this startling news. 

"Are you sure it will be serious?" Somehow he felt foolish questioning a kid about impending events, but then his 'crystal ball' kind of clairvoyance had yet to be wrong. He sat forward, impatient for a reply, even though it might not be one he wanted. 

Daryl couldn't stifle a small laugh of pleasure at Lex's astounded face. Their long journey back to where he was being tended was going to be a fun one, because now he knew just how to peak Lex's curiosity...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
Outside The Daily Planet Offices...    
  
Clark gently pushed his way through the morning throng of business people and early shoppers, searching the multitude of people for Chloe. A brief flash of her head caught his attention as she padded behind a hotdog stall, and he jogged over towards her. 

"Chloe!" He waved a hand in the air, although his height meant he was still reasonably easy for the young reporter to spot, even in these crowds. She gestured back, then paused, waiting for his imminent arrival. 

"Clark?" Her voice and expression were both quizzical, "what are you doing here? You never come by The Planet..." 

Clark gently took her arm but refused to answer. Instead he lightly guided her to a shop front where they could at least be shielded from the bustle of the city street. A young boy breezed by selling papers, and at his cry of _'Luthorcorp shares drop in serious market crash'_ Chloe tried to pull away. 

Clark held her back with a firm hand. "Don't worry about that. We have more important things to discuss. I wanted to talk to you about my apartment..." 

An air of mystery came over the young detective and Chloe's journalistic instincts were peaked. She watched longingly as the kid with the papers moved away, and wondered just why she hadn't heard the Luthor news first. After a brief craving to know what was going on, her eyes settled back on Clark. 

"You know I was wondering how long it would take for you to ask me?" She raised her brow and her eyes sparkled. 

"Ask you?" Now it was Clark's turn to fake surprise. 

Chloe continued unabashed. "Ask me to move in silly. I mean with the way you live, you need a woman around to keep the kitchen stocked!" The reporter looked at her watch. She was going to be the one late for work for a change, not Clark. "I really should be getting up to my job or Perry will freak." 

Clark shook his head in more surprise and pulled her back as she began to head over to The Planet's lobby. "Chloe, you moving into my apartment wasn't really what I had planned for my future...I mean it's not even what I wanted to talk to you about..." 

The reporter froze on the spot, a look of anguish replacing her momentary mirth. She had gone through this before with Clark, back in their teens, but it had never occurred to her that he would back out again. After all they were adults now, things were different, weren't they? She felt tears well in her eyes and whirled around, not wanting him to see how vulnerable she still really was, but Clark spun her back anyway. 

The smile she loved so much looked down on her from high, and as she gazed helplessly back into his eyes he lifted her chin with a loving finger. "I don't want you to just move in Chloe..." His free hand tugged a tiny wrapped box from his pocket, and shakily he undid the ribbon that held it fast. Once open he offered it up to her, his heart pounding more than if he'd done a round the world trip at super speed. "Chloe, will you marry me?" 

The sidewalk spun as he popped the elusive question out of thin air. Of all the things she had expected, a proposal wasn't one. Light headed was an understatement, as Chloe was left speechless for one of the few times in her life. 

"I ...I..." 

"Go on! You gotta say yeah!" The hotdog vendor had been watching from his vantage point, and as the couple turned they realized they had unwittingly drawn an audience. A mass of people now encircled them, and to Chloe's horror one of the onlookers was Perry White. She expected a growl from his direction, but in its place she got an order. 

"Well don't just stand there! Give the man an answer!" 

This time the tears did come. There was no stopping them, and as they streamed down her face she hugged the lofty detective, never wanting to move for fear it was a dream. 

After a long moment she snuggled close to his ear and whispered softly. "Ha! You're only asking me this because I know your deep, dark secret!" 

Clark pulled away ever so slightly and winked. "Pete knows, but I didn't ask him to marry me!" 

Chloe threw a punch at him and giggled like she was still a school kid. "In that case I better say yes before you change your mind." 

Clark's grin grew even wider, and as the mass around them cheered he leaned low and softly kissed his bride to be. Chloe wanted it to last forever, to stand the test of time just as their relationship had, because things hadn't always been this easy... 

As their lips met her mind flashed back to the day they had argued, the day she had very nearly fell under Lionel Luthor's evil spell. If Lionel hadn't been killed soon after she might even be working for him now, but luckily fate had dealt a hand, and instead she had simply moved on. She didn't know why, but Clark had changed that day too. She had never once expected him to want to become a cop, and yet he suddenly had the notion that that was what he must do. Either way after their quarrel they hadn't spoken in years. It had become a sore point at Smallville High, and Chloe had been glad when the opportunity came to return to Metropolis and work at The Planet. Still though, their destiny's it would seem were intertwined... 

It had been a warm summer night, some two years ago, and Chloe had been out to meet a contact about a story. As it happened the lead was a false one, and she had wasted her time and effort. Frustrated, the young reporter had been on her way home around 11pm, her police scanner switched on in case she heard any breaking story. That was when it had happened. The call went out to the fire department first; a building had caught fire right on the next turn off to Chloe, and several people, including kids were trapped on an upper floor. She glanced skyward and could already see billowing smoke plumes ebbing into the darkness. If she hurried she could be there even before the emergency services. 

Giving her late model Pontiac more gas Chloe turned off the road and hopped out of her door, grabbing her digital camera as she raced down the street. A crowd had gathered outside the main exit, and in the distance wailing sirens signaled help was on the way. Looking up through her lens she could see two people waving frantically from a window as flames licked ever closer, and thick black smoke clouds curled around them in an ominous portent of what was to come. _Those fire dept guys' better hurry or they aren't going to be in time... _

She watched a moment longer, then her keen eye spotted a flash of color speeding down a side alley to the blazing apartment block. Convinced it wasn't a trick of the light she trotted over, ignoring the risk to herself for the good of the story. At the alley's entrance she stopped, trying to see through the smog the fire was causing. Never once did she expect to see someone she knew, and yet as she squinted more she recognized the blur to be Clark Kent. He hadn't seen her, so intense was his desire to save the stranded victims above, and for now Chloe wanted to keep it that way. 

Chloe backed up, taking shot after shot and hoping at least one came out through the miasma of smoke. It was an amazing sight for anyone, as the off duty cop kicked in the smoldering side door, and without thought for himself dived straight into intense heat and flames. As he vanished inside, seemingly unharmed, Chloe drew closer and from her position could see just what he was doing. It defied the laws of nature, but somehow Clark was extinguishing, or at least repelling flames with his breath. As he moved towards the stairwell she captured a full shot of him 'in the act' and swallowed hard in incredulity. From here there was little more she could do but wait, and hope he made it back down with survivors. Somehow though, she knew he would.   
  
The rest of that night Chloe hadn't slept much, and when she had her dreams had been fitful and frightening. Just what was Clark? She had always had her suspicions he was different, maybe that was what had kept them apart? _Don't be ridiculous Sullivan you know Lana was the real problem..._ She rose from her insomnia and made coffee, then tugged out her laptop and began to type. This was one of the best story's she was ever likely to get, and she had pictures to prove it. Lithely her fingers danced on the keys, then when she finished she looked down on her work with pride. This was her crowning moment in journalism. _'Off Duty Cop Saves Family...' _

That morning when the first issue went out, Chloe had ambled over to her favorite cafe and had binged out. She was just in the process of stuffing in her second sandwich and espresso when a hand on her shoulder had made her jump. The voice that went with it was both familiar, and grateful. 

"Thanks Chloe..." 

She had looked up to see Kent watching her, a certain fear in his eyes because he knew she had seen the awful truth, and had suppressed it just for him. It hadn't been easy to tell the tale without adding how Clark had managed to save those people against all odds, but she had managed it with her usual flair with words. Of coarse she would have preferred to get a Pulitzer for the real scoop, but one thing time had taught her was there was more to life than that. 

She patted the cheap plastic covered bench seat next to her, and then unzipped her purse, retrieving her tiny camera. "I think we have a lot to talk about Clark. It's been a long time..." 

He had sat beside her then, wanting their old rift to be healed and suddenly not caring what she knew about him. It didn't matter though, because as Chloe showed him the pictures she had on her illuminated view screen, he knew in his heart she would never give up his one true secret... 

Finally, back in the here and now, Chloe let her lips pull away and felt like her world had just exploded...and for the better. The mob was at last moving away, satisfied that their lovers were going to tie the knot and that they had their fairy tale ending. 

"So where do we go from here Kent?" Chloe slipped on the perfect fitting ring and couldn't help but stare at its beauty. "I mean, I'm still late for work..." 

Clark frowned, and then smiled. "That's the least of my worries. I have to go tell Mom and Dad the news..." 

"Ha! You know they'll love it!" She entwined her arm with his then squeezed his huge hand. "Now, while we're on the way to your folks, you can fill me in on this Luthorcorp scandal I seem to have missed..." 

Clark let his pupils shrink. "Mnn, I might just be able to help you there..." The pair headed off with much to discuss, and much to plan. To most it was just another day in Metropolis, to this couple it was just the beginning of many exploits to come...   
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
A Seemingly Abandoned Japanese Restaurant...   
  
Lucas Luthor sat at the head of the table, enjoying the succulent sushi as he commanded everyone present's attention. In the old days of his youth he didn't care what he was seen doing, but these days he had to resort to these more clandestine meetings to keep his name out of public view. Lex was the one he wanted kept in the limelight, taking the brunt of the accusations for crimes he had actually had committed. 

Tonight Lucas was angry once again that his elder brother had thwarted his attempts at being framed. He tossed a piece of the raw fish across the food ridden table in disgust at the man he held accountable. "Tanner, why couldn't you and that idiot Falmer get one simple job right? And why was Kent's father left alive? He could easily point the finger if he recognized you." 

Jez Tanner didn't need telling twice, but the blame wasn't entirely his. "The hotel guy came through...it was easier to leave than get messy Mr. Luthor." Tanner kept his eyes to the floor. He was in a totally hostile environment now, and he had heard what Lucas sometimes did with those who failed him. 

The ornate Japanese sculptures and decorations that adorned Luthor's hideaway seemed to laugh at him as he began to panic. It was an optical illusion brought on by his fear, but nevertheless Tanner wanted to get up and run. A candle flickered on the table, sending dancing shadows across the far wall like some oriental nightmare, because that was where Luthor kept his weapons... 

"I see you've spotted my collection," Lucas stood and walked over to his antique weaponry. "A fascination of mine from my youth..." Plucking the topmost sword down he returned, letting its blade slide slowly down Tanner's arm and stopping at the wrist. It tickled the hairs and flesh, but for now did no damage. "You know my Yakuza friends have a way of dealing with failures like you...if the transgression is small the employee may offer up a token of his regret. Sometimes a finger I hear. If the failure is more serious then a full ritual suicide is required..." Luthor faced Tanner now, letting the information sink in. 

Tanner gulped but didn't move. "If there's anything I can do Sir..." 

Lucas smirked. He liked the power he held over people just as much as his father had. "For now you're safe, but next time I will expect a penance." Keeping the samurai weapon he reseated himself, toying with it tauntingly. "Now, down to business. Someone is bringing Luthorcorp shares down, and I suspect my brother. However, my oriental friends could also be behind this in a bid to get their hands on the new strain being developed at level three. I want you to find out which one is responsible..." 

"And then?" 

Lucas whirled the sword expertly as he had been trained to do. "And then do nothing, simply report the facts to me as you find them, and I will take care of the rest." 

Tanner stepped forward, cringing at the raw fish dish Luthor had suddenly decided to tuck back into. "And if Kent interferes again? I can't stop him, nobody can..." 

"Kent is busy planning his wedding, and by the time he returns from his honeymoon I will be well on the way to having a little something to curb his eagerness to fight. It's a much more comprehensive 'cure' to our problem cop, trust me." 

Luthor laughed for the first time in front of his minion, and instantly Tanner felt alone and afraid. What Lucas was doing at the Smallville plant was tantamount to treason, and he wished now that he had not become involved. Killing was one thing, but on such a vast scale that could occur, it would be nothing more than genocide. Now though with the threat of Luthor's Eastern 'partners', Tanner saw no escape from the hole he'd dug himself into. "I'll find out the data you require Sir." 

Lucas nodded, then boorishly waved Tanner out before his next dish was served. "And remember, Kent will soon be a dead man walking...just like you if you fail me again..."   
  
  


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A Back Road Into Smallville...   
  
Clark let the wind breeze through his hair as the Harley sped along the highway at a very modest speed; at least compared to what he was capable of. Chloe hung on behind, squeezing her arms tightly around his waist in a loving hug. He hadn't known if she would find the same thrill as he did from cruising on his dad's bike, but in the end Chloe had enjoyed the purring motorbike more than him. He glanced through his shades at her, and caught her smiling back at his leather clad figure. _I sure hope mom and dad take this well..._

In reality he had no doubt that they would, but it was just an inbuilt and childish fear he couldn't shake. A bend ahead made him slow a little, dropping the huge bike down a gear and guiding it through the turn. As he built up more speed again a wail from behind made him inhale. It was a police siren, and this close to Smallville he suspected it could be only one person, even after all this time. With a sigh he pulled into the soft verge as soon as it was safe, then tugged off his sunglasses before the sardonic sheriff arrived, hand on hips. 

"Well if it isn't our Mr. Kent." The drawl to her voice never changed. "Just because you're some big city cop now, don't mean you can come back home and speed on my roads!" 

Chloe let go of her fiancé and scowled at the local police woman with contempt. She had never really forgiven the self righteous know all for making Clark pick up trash, and that was just one thing in list of many the reporter disliked her for. "Well excuse me, but we were not speeding as well you know! Maybe you should be back in town giving out parking tickets, but then I guess you only give those out to harmless little old ladies..." The scorn in Chloe's comment made it easily apparent she meant the sheriff could do better things with her time than pick on innocent people when there were plenty of criminals around. 

Adams took the mocking tone in her stride. "Do you want to spend a night in my cells explaining your attitude problem towards the law, Miss Sullivan?" 

Chloe refused to back down, and Clark had no intention of defending her. As always it was much more fun to see her verbal sparring, especially with someone as acerbic as Adams. "Do you want to spend a day on the front page of The Planet for police harassment?" 

The sheriff huffed, and tucking her thumbs in her belt she tugged it up, trying her hardest to carry on her air of officialdom like she had when they were teens. "Seeing as Mr. Kent here helped catch the Rainman I'm willing to let it go this time, but I'll be watching..." She gave the reporter her best 'evil eye', then slipped back behind the wheel of her patrol car and promptly called in Clark's registration, just to be doubly sure there was nothing she could book them for. 

"Do you think she'll ever stop being such a misery?" Chloe poked Clark teasingly as they watched the prickly cop get back in her car. "I mean sheesh, we're not teenagers anymore, who does she think she is?" 

Clark slipped an arm around his wife to be. "Maybe we're acting like a couple of teens again and that's why?" 

The reporter chuckled. "You may have a point...just promise me something though?" She looked deep into his eyes, attempting to look serious before bursting out in more laughter, "Next time can we fly? It would have been so much simpler to get to your parents." 

The cop strengthened his grip and beamed. "Why wait till next time?" With a swift push off from the bike seat he was airborne, taking Chloe with him without breaking a sweat. So fast was his ascent not another living soul saw the pair soar into the heavens, leaving the Harley and one very puzzled sheriff behind. 

Adams heard laughter and giggling as the confirmation of Clark's details came through. Annoyed that she could still find nothing to fine the pair for, she looked up into her rearview, about to glower at the two lovers on the bike. Instead all she saw was a lone motorcycle propped on the highway, its fancy frame rocking as if it had just been vacated. Frowning she pushed her door back open and scoured the surrounding roads and countryside, but there was nothing for miles. It was if the earth itself had swallowed them. A cold sensation ran through her as she recalled the freak stories about this town, then she had to smile to herself. _I always knew there was something different about you Mr. Kent... _   


The End...for now...

  



End file.
